Now that I think about it, that could be a good book title. It isn’t what I’m up to today.
For years, New Year’s Eve here has been like a war zone. My wife almost always has to work, and the bedroom lights up like we have a photographer in there and the explosions go off until sunrise.
This year, a few anemic pops about nine o’clock and that was it. How could this be? Why? What changed?
We didn’t lose those neighbors. They’re still here.
The fact is that Americans are currently underpaid. Disagree all you like, but I learned my economics during the Reagan administration. I, and most like me, had money to burn and burn it we did. We bought snowmobiles, new shotguns, pickups, etc. (We were western kids.)
This allowed people who operated those business to also thrive. The money moved around. I was there. I saw it in action.
Now here we are at New Years Eve (Last night). Honestly, I don’t miss the fireworks. The dogs don’t either, but it isn’t hard to draw conclusions. People don’t have any money right now. Those who do are hanging on to it. Never know when there will be another toilet paper run. Things like fireworks take a back seat to food and fuel.
That was just my observation from last night. Probably has no real value to anyone. Least of all those who have initiated their own personal space programs.
I called Mom this morning and spent a lovely hour with her. After that I managed to pull Mari’s fat from the fire, but it was touch and go for a while. Not a great volume of words, but I’m now ready to dive head first into the long denouement this story deserves.
I hope you all celebrated in some way, even if it was a bit more demure.