Despite still feeling fairly wretched, I drove to Connecticut for the fourth of July (feeling bad and alone on a holiday is the worst. Do not do this to yourself under any circumstances, even if the thought of hauling yourself out of bed, let alone to another state, is overwhelming.)
It turns out that fireworks from the middle of the inky-watered Long Island Sound are vastly superior to fireworks while sitting on the beach with the crowds of people who don’t have boats to float around on.
Smug? A tiny bit.
There was a diving mask below deck. I put it on, and Jen took my photo.