It is construction season.
The building we live in is 40 years old, and it was recently dis- covered that water was finding its way behind the brick. This requires some very loud repairs that are not expected to be fin ished until fall.
Usually, I am just finding my way to the coffeepot around 8:30. But now there are men standing on scaffolds, jackhammering bricks at 8 a.m., right outside my window. If I open the drapes, I can see their boots.
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