Sunday, July 03, 2011

Illegal Splendor

Tonight the illegal fireworks in town have begun. They are nothing like last years' illegal displays that outdo most legal fireworks displays I've seen. I wonder if the cops are out on patrol for illegals. I hope not. I need my entertainment! They never have been before so I can't imagine they'd change.

I usually take a lawn chair out on my sidewalk this time of year after dark to watch.

Albany pyro's really put on the display.

But tonight, I'm sick. I'm barfing sick.

After getting back from the halfway trip to the wedding, I felt unusually tired. I've slept a lot the last couple of days, to recuperate from the extreme trapping and transporting. I would get too hot then too cold. I slept all afternoon.

I woke up so wobbly on my legs I could barely walk. I thought, "Well, I'm just dehydrated" and drank a lot of water. After that, I gave up on doing anything and planted myself back on my couch.

But the barfing began. I'm no barfer. I only barfed twice but that is like a fifth of the total times I've barfed in my entire life. At least I think so.

I felt better after barfing but it didn't last. I'm still feeling like road kill warmed over. I'm feeling like pet cemetery animals.

I feel like I ate something that grew bad things quickly. Another wave of upchucking seems to be coming on. My face gets hot first.

I folded up the lawn chair, put it away, and rolled back the covers on my bed. The booms and bangs and cracks and sizzles are loud outside. I wish I could watch the goings on. But not tonight. There will be more tomorrow night I'm sure.

Tonight, I am no good. Waves of incredible drowsiness wash over me.

I did name the ten bathroom kittens. The calico is now Giggles. The female chocolate point Siamese kitten is Whimsy. Her two brothers are Samba and Tango. The third Siamese Lynx Point male is Rumba. The gray tux boy is Rocky. The black tux boy is Hoops. The brown tabby boy is Bonkers. The brother and sister, a tabby on white and a muted torti, the smallest of all the kittens, are Pebbles and Bambam.

At least I named the kittens.

The illegal splendor going on outside is probably fantastic, as usual, here, where pyromania is a treasured hobby nurtured and handed down, generation to generation.

There is no reason to brave traffic jams and masses of people to sit in some field and await ten minutes of engineered legal fireworks when the skies here are lit up in all directions.

UPDATE: Keni, Poppa's president, is also ill, with the same symptoms--vomiting, diarrhea, dizziness and weakness. Only she is much worse.

We saw each other last Wednesday, when I took up the FIV kittens. I helped her clean up there, for a couple of hours, but we shared no food or drink. The dust was incredible, when vacuuming and I was happy to be gone when I left. I wonder if it is coincidence we are both sick with the same symptoms or if there was something out there we came in contact with.

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