Screwing Around

How can January possibly be almost over? Good grief, didn’t we just ring in the new year just last weekend? No? Oh, you mean that was really already over three weeks ago? Is my name Rip van Winkle now? Holy guacamole, somebody wake me up from this looping blur of melted days! I don’t know about you guys, but if it weren’t for my mobile or laptop I would not have a clue as to what day of the week it is anymore. This absence of structure, routine and familiar pattern in truly messing with my mind, and trust me, my brain is a pretty murky place to begin with.

You must be wondering about the title and thinking that I have gone off the rocker for good. Before we entertain any further x-rated thoughts on the matter, let me set you on the straight and narrow path and tell you a story.

I live in a building where there are three apartments per floor, and I occupy the middle one. Although I don’t have the luxurious panoramic view that the two other apartments have, I reap the advantages of being flanked on both sides – it keeps my place cooler in summer (heat buffers), and warmer in winter (heat transference). It drove me nuts when the neighbours to my right moved out because they spent over three weeks disassembling their cabinets and furniture, and the drill noise triggered images of torture chambers and dental chairs. Brrrrr. I shudder at the thought. When their moving day arrived I said a thanksgiving prayer and muttered good riddance. Then shortly before Christmas, my neighbours to the left moved out, thereby ushering in another couple of days with the drill. It’s been eerily silent on my floor ever since and I can’t say I enjoy it much. I miss the cheerful greetings and the security of knowing that can knock on their door in the event of an emergency.

Apparently someone is moving in next door because the torture chamber is back. I was positively on the warpath when the incessant sound of a concrete drill followed by screw driving, hammering and what sounded like a cement spatula. I love tools and these sounds would otherwise be kinkily entertaining but they have rattled me from my blissful silence every day for the past week around lunch time and after office hours. Well, gee, thanks guys. I braced myself for Saturday, sensing that they would drill me out of my mind. True enough, drilling and hammering beginning at 8:00am rudely awakened me from a dreamy slumber and post-romance books fantasies. Even my half deaf cat Lolita looked up at the noise with concern, taking her feline dementia ditsiness to a whole new level.

I understand that weekends are sacred for hobby handymen and DIYers, I really do. But boy do I wish I could blow torch you all to a crisp and then leave you out in the woods for the racoons to pick on! Who the bejeezers is desperate enough to indulge in torture chamber drilling and hammering on a Sunday morning before 9:00am? So much for prayer and meditation time… As expected, yesterday and today have been so quiet I could cause an Ewok around there and nobody would notice. It’s a mind game, a cruel mind game!

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