I realize this may be an unpopular opinion. Especially around the Fourth of July when it seems like every blessed moment there’s another excuse for lighting things up.

July 1st – Hey! It’s July! Let’s get some sparklers and cook out!

July 3rd – Hey! It’s the night before the 4th! Let’s kick this thing off right!

July 5th – Hey! Where’d we put all those extra firecrackers? There’s no point in leaving them sitting around all year, get the lighter!

I really really freaking hate fireworks.

Top 10 Reasons I Hate Fireworks Every Single Day of the Year

1.  Fireworks happen at night, and to get to night you have to make it through dusk, but to get through dusk you have to suffer through hundreds of mosquitoes feasting on your hot sweaty skin. Blech.

2.  Fireworks happen outside, and “outside” has an remarkable lack of comfortable seating. Spread a blanket on the hard lumpy ground? No, thank you. Your best option is a big old camping chair but after two hours of waiting-waiting-waiting nothing is comfortable, not even that oversized canvas behemoth with a cup holder.

3.  Has anyone else noticed how freaking loud fireworks are? They’re loud. Like, super loud. Loud enough to make me flinch. Why would I want to sit through that again?

4.  Then there was the year a piece of smoldering pyrotechnic material floated out of the sky and landed on me. omg, that’s it, I’M OUT.

5.  That lack of natural light (see “night,” #1) demands a flashlight, and what’s drawn to light in the dark? That’s right. Bugs. Flying bugs. Flying bugs that smack me about the face while I screech like a little girl.

6.  Watching your kid run down the sidewalk with a flaming stick in their hand freaks me out. There. I said it.

7.  We’ve got a dog scarred by trauma. Now before you say one word about overprotective pet owners all I can say is this – if you can watch a dog cower in fear, tail tucked, twitching nervously every time a bang goes off outside without feeling sympathy then you clearly have a hard, black piece of coal where your heart should be.

8.  Noise pollution. Hello.

9.  Also, air pollution. Hello.

10.  At the risk of sounding Scrooge-ish, every single fireworks event I’ve attended is three hours of my life I’ll never get back. Making arrangements, traveling to the venue, finding good seats, killing time until the fireworks, enduring the sticky hot weather, watching 250 explosions that are basically the same thing over and over again, packing up the blankets/chairs/what have you, plus heading back home…well, I figure I’ve lost about 6,840 minutes to the fireworks industry as it is. I’m calling it a day.