Just yesterday I was telling someone that the destruction next door, under my bedroom window, isn’t so bad. They’re tearing down two old wooden houses, and had been doing it mostly by hand, so the noise was fairly manageable.
At 8:30 this morning I was awakened by the dulcet tones of a backhoe fitted with an enormous pincer. It was picking up great chunks of twisted metal and broken concrete and putting them into a truck. Despite the early hour, it was kind of cool. The guys who drive those things really know what they’re doing and its deft mobility had a certain beauty to it. Plus, these guys are predictable. At precisely 10:00, fifteen minutes of silence as they took their morning coffee break.
At precisely 12:00, they broke for lunch. By the time I got back from the dojo, they had switched out the pincer for a shovel. Still not too bad. It scraped up dirt and bits of wood and other debris. Fairly civilized.
At precisely 3:00, afternoon coffee break and then, oh joy, oh rapture, they switched out the shovel for a jackhammer attachment so they could break up the concrete foundations. My house has been bouncing and jumping ever since.
At precisely 5:00, they shut it down for the day and peace once again reigns.
But another peek out the window reveals that they’re not quite done with the foundations. To what raucous surprises will I awake in the morn? Must go to bed early so I am up early and prepared for whatever awaits. They’re just doing their jobs; it would be unfair to introduce them to Mouse in Tokyo spitting nails.