It’s the Fourth of July. We should be popping off fireworks, but the city did that on Saturday. They even had the Fourth of July parade on July 1. That all seems odd. I think we’ve become too enamored of weekends. I mean, this is July 4, Independence Day. It’s a big deal in the history of the country. Let’s celebrate it on that day. I mean, what’s the rush? Convenience? I don’t understand.

Of course, there are lots of things I don’t understand. I’m pretty sure I’ve lived my life in a fog of misunderstanding and incomprehension. I don’t know why some music is popular. Why some TV shows draw large crowds. Why people like horror movies. The list goes on and on. For the longest time I didn’t know why people liked asparagus, but I finally figured that out. And that’s way off subject.

So, now that I’ve voiced my opinion about when my city celebrates the fourth, I’m going to let it go. I am no longer willing to get riled up about much of anything, especially something like this. Because in the grand scheme of things it’s pretty petty, or inconsequential, and life will go on, regardless. And now I’m done, and I think I’m going to go work in the yard, because I’m free of the tyranny of the crown.