Construction

The scenic view from my apartment. Yeah, that's a brick wall.

I work the night shift.¹ This means that daily events others consider simple nuisances often make me apoplectically angry, as they are rousing me from sleep. These include, but are not limited to, music, package deliveries, phone calls, the old people upstairs watching TV and, of course, sunlight. Not that I'm complaining.²

Of course the worst of all of these, and the bane of any apartment dweller's existence,³ is construction. Here are some theories on why my downstairs neighbors thought they should do construction at the ungodly hour of 11:00 am on a weekday:

They wanted to.

They have sh*t for brains.

They had to rip out the walls to contain some sort of infestation⁴ which is slowly spreading into neighboring apartments.

Even though they should know through some sort of combination of osmosis and telepathy, they are not aware I work the night shift.

They are taking revenge for that time we had the audacity to have a party (no!) until after midnight (gasp!) on a Saturday (good God!).

They know through some sort of combination of osmosis and telepathy that I work the night shift, but they don't care.

They have sh*t for brains.

Coming up on Neon Streets: More Seinfeld references! A conclusion to the Hurricane Story! Posts more often than every six months!

1) What glamorous and enchanting job could I possibly be doing at such an hour? Stay tuned to Neon Streets to find out! (No, I am not a lady of the evening).

4) Roaches, mice, waterbugs,* bed bugs...New York City has it all!

*A waterbug is the charming name New Yorkers give to roaches that are bigger than normal roaches, crawl out of the drain and, wait for it, can fly.