Pre-party Burnout

Skeptical of the neighbor's 4th of July plans

My neighborhood will go off for Fourth of July. Since the kids are not old enough to enjoy sitting in traffic, and combatting aggressive drunk people for a picnic space to watch fireworks, we will stay in this year. That doesn't mean I won't hear the festivities.
The fireworks stalls have been open for business the past month, and today the lines are long. People will hardly be able to contain themselves, and hold off till tomorrow. I suspect, there will be quite a fireworks show tonight from people shooting off a couple fireworks from their stash for the Fourth.
I get it. I've never been good at waiting for the big event, and usually use up all my gas during the pre-party, the day before.
My sister and I stayed up till four am night before my Grandma's surprise 80th birthday party. We were supposed to be rolling silverware and cleaning the house, but we decided to drink all the beer in my parents' refrigerator. The problem with our pre-party plan was we didn't start drinking beer till 11pm, so we were up till 4am. Around 3am, we stood up after feeling like we drank enough. While I was standing I couldn't help stumbling from one side to the other. Then my sister came to help me be stationary, and she found herself in a similar boat. It really was like we were trying to balance ourselves on a boat that was rocking back and forth on giant waves. Our lack of bodily control had us in hysterics, and then we couldn't stop laughing while stumbling around.
My mom came out of her room, and pretended to be mad, so we crept to the guest room. I poked my head out of the door, and saw my mom walking back to her room with a pack of toilet paper, then I started loudly laughing as I reported to my sister, "She came out here to get toilet paper." Which isn't even funny, but at the moment, I found it hilarious that my mom decided to refill her toilet paper at 3 am.
It was to my mom's advantage that my sister and I were hungover during my grandma's party because we were her diligent servants, preparing food, washing dishes and grabbing the guests refills, without being pulled away because of over socializing due to drinking.
I followed suit on my birthday, and the night before I drank a bottle of wine while gabbing on the phone. Then, my actual birthday was a bit tiring, and the height of the festivities was going to bed at 9.
This morning I ran by an old lady who was moving her massive trash can to the street. The garbage can was bigger than her. A few steps past her, I realized that it didn't look right, and turned around to ask if she wanted help. She said yes, so I rolled it over the curb, and turned it facing the street for the garbage truck. Then we wished each other Happy Fourth of July and parted ways.
It felt nice to be a Good Samaritan. Usually I get too embarrassed to approach someone who appears to be struggling and ask if they want help because I don't want them to feel incompetent. My dad never has this problem, and acts like a boy scout helping people everywhere we go. He also likes to enlist one of his kids to do his kindness bidding for him, ordering us to race ahead and open the door for people, or load up someone's groceries or, his favorite, shoveling someone else's snowy driveway.
A couple years ago there was a big fire in Tahoe, and my parents' neighborhood was being evacuated. My little sister moved back in with my parents then, and she was helping my dad pack up valuables. Becky and my dad are two sentimentalists in the family, so they decided to fill their cars with family photo albums instead of artwork off the walls. It didn't matter because the fire was contained before burning down the house, an upsetting ending for my mother, an unsentimentalist, who was hoping the house would burn down so she could build a bigger and better one.
An older couple were packing up their house a couple doors down, and my dad was in fight or flight mode, stressing all the homes were going to catch fire. He raced to their house, and started throwing their boxes in the trunk of the car, then picked up this old lady and carried her to the car. My sister said, she thought the lady might have a heart attack from my dad handling her like a toddler. Sadly, my dad didn't playfully toss her in the air and catch her before swooping her into the front seat.

Hopefully a neighbor doesn't start a fire this weekend with their fireworks. Although, if I blow my party load early, by taking it to the limit tonight, and not being able to celebrate tomorrow night, I will be able to remain on high alert while the drunken neighbors start blowing shit up. And, if a fire does occur, I will remember to grab my electronic devices that are loaded up with all the pictures I need to print and make into photo albums.

Yeah, I'll be DD tomorrow