Yesterday was the first Independence Day I can remember in which the following things happened:
1) I did not muck about with a gas grill, nor did I cook meat. (I let my neighbor do it all, while I made flatbread.)
2) I did not buy fireworks. (I let my neighbors buy them).
3) I did not set anything on fire. (I let my neighbors do that, and I sat and watched.)
You may think that as record-setting activities go, NOT doing something hardly counts. I beg to differ. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to just sit with my hands in my lap making small talk while other people light things on fire?
This was also the first Independence day since my engagement to Sandra 13 summers ago in which the two of us have not been together. I suppose I could pretend that I was eschewing flesh-grilling and firework-lighting because I was in mourning, but the fact of the matter is that it was probably the only opportunity I’ll ever have for this kind of an exercise in self-restraint.