America's Birthday

Aaron and I celebrated America's birthday at home. In bed. Oh, it's not as exciting as you might think. I was struck down on Monday afternoon in the prime of my youth with a sore throat. So the barbeque that our friends were having on Monday? I couldn't go. The fireworks display over the Space Needle that we would have been able to see at close range from Aaron's office building? Missed that, too.

There is nothing that gets me more excited than a paid day off from work, so having to spend it at home being a sickie was a major bummer. (I know, it's not 1982, and people don't say "major bummer" unless they're imitating Spicoli in "Fast Times at Ridgemont High", but I'm sick, so leave me alone.)

The one glimmer of hope in my otherwise grumpy day turned up after I'd gone to bed. The sound machine was whirring, the fan was blowing a cool breeze on my feet, the two layers of Veralux curtain panel were blocking a whole lotta light, and my construction grade ear plugs were drowning out every other sound so much that I could hear my own heart beat. It was then that Aaron roused me from slumber to let me know that we could see fireworks from our window! It was true. The WaMu (what a stupid abbreviation) fireworks over Lake Union were visible from the windows in the condo! We couldn't see the low ones, because they were blocked by the trees, but the high flying fireworks showed up clearly and brightly! It was great.

And then I went back to bed. Happy birthday, America.