We came home from vacation to find a grocery cart on its side, missing a couple of wheels, next to our parking space. Nice. A beautiful welcome home to our dark apartment that now has “trash” featured prominently as “yard art”. But the back yard had new art as well! A construction fence! With used to-go cups stuck into the holes! It’s just turning into a regular art park at the apartment. This week’s construction, as if on cue, is occurring directly at my back door. All day. Only at my door. An entire fence line of construction from which to choose, and RIGHT HERE seems to be the Fates favorite spot to land.

I needed a pick me up, so I drove on over to the new home site, and was greeted with blessed silence. No hammering or nailing or digging of any kind. In fact, 2 weeks of no noise. No progress, no walls, no suggestions a house might eventually be on my beautiful lot anytime soon. As a sign of goodwill, and after our realtor let the builders have a large piece of her mind, they came with some wood. A few pieces even went up in the basement. Just a few! We wouldn’t want to get crazy and BUILD A HOUSE I PAID FOR OR ANYTHING. But those few pieces were followed by a beautiful, if not somewhat eery…silence.

Cyrus has started puking from the noise. A new breed of bug has moved into the apartment. Not as menacing as the spiders, but giving off an appearance as the kind of bug that could survive a nuclear bomb. So I’m thinking here is a good to-do list for the day:

(1) Drive to the apartment front office and insist they start paying me to live here, if not just for the contribution I’ll make to science by the discovery of so many new species of bugs.

(2) Borrow the largest construction vehicle on site, drive it over to my non-house, and get things started. How hard can it be to drive a 6-ton tractor with an arm and shovel bigger than my van? I’ll just move a lever here and there, and VOILA!

(3) I may have to first figure out HOW to get it over to the new house, considering it’s almost impossible to get out of my current complex. We escaped to the front pool yesterday to get away from the noise, and the water company was ripping up the entire road leading into our apartment for a sewer project. An event of such cacophony, it rivals that of massive industrial building projects.

(4) Exorcism. I need a Priest, whatever supplies are required (I’m assuming a Cross, a Rosary, and some Holy Water, a Bible…I have those things somewhere in a box, I’m sure)…and a stiff glass of whiskey. For me. I need whiskey. Priest first, whiskey second.

Let’s go back to singing the temporary song, shall we? Cheers, my friends!

[this moment posts are inspired by Amanda Soule, even though mine have strayed far from her “in the now” format. They are intended to be wordless and peaceful, but I think under my current circumstance, Amanda may give me a pass…]