But not by choice. See, the window-replacement guy right outside my window is listening to the radio right now, and "Walk This Way" is on. (I genuinely like this song. But I'd rather hear it on my own terms.) Previously I heard "Alive" by Pearl Jam. Thanks for the classic/alternative rock, brah! Wait, now he's changing the station ... now the radio's turned off ... nope, it just went silent for a few seconds ... and now it's on a Spanish-language station ... and he's singing along ... and it's a Spanish polka. I didn't know that genre existed. I'm learning so much today.
One thing I didn't like learning on Wednesday night was that the window-replacement guys would be in my apartment on Friday morning at 7 AM. Last night I moved all of my furniture out of the way of the windows but couldn't get to sleep until after 2 AM, which posed a problem since I had to be awake and out of my apartment by 7. At 7 I waited for a knock on my door, but it never came. Once the window-washing "bucket" finally ascended up the building around 7:45, it went up to the sixth floor. I live on the fifth. Glad I got up at 5:30 for no goddamn reason! At 8:30 the pounding and drilling up above got to be too much, so I left to go to work and sleep there (where there is a couch and it is comfy).
On days when I've been home and the window construction has been taking place, the construction crew is usually done by 3:00. So around 3:45 I left work to come home ... and discovered that my apartment wasn't even touched today. I moved all that furniture for nothing. I woke up at 5:30 for nothing. I didn't go to work for nothing, since I didn't want to hang around here—never mind that I wasn't on the clock this Friday, so I was just hanging out at work and exploiting that comfy couch—but still, my windows weren't replaced today. When I got up to my apartment I found a note under my door saying that my windows will now be replaced on Monday. Which is September 11th. What a great omen!
And today, for some reason, the construction crew was still here at 4:15 when I got home. The guy who loves Spanish polka just finally descended in his bucket at 5:35 after slamming the bucket against the building every ten seconds for ten minutes. Unsolicited Spanish polka music + loud banging noises + window replacement being delayed by three days = salty anger. I think I should take a shower and then listen to some soft rock.
I'm not leaving my apartment at 7 on Monday. Fuuuuuck that. I'm doing my laundry like I always do on Monday morning, and those bastards can work around the folding of my whites and delicates. On Wednesday I was awakened 45 minutes early by one of the construction guys calling another one "motherfucker" and threatening to start a fight. The female member of the crew did her best Edith Bunker impression and yelled "Josh, stop it! Josh!" a few times. I then closed my window—this is all a scam to make us leave our AC window units running all night long, I betcha—and five minutes later heard the motherfuckering and "Josh, stop!" start up again. Other dude, Josh was so close to kicking your ass. You don't even know, dude. You don't even know. Is it possible to have that much adrenaline flowing through your system at 7:15 AM? Maybe Josh had a bad commute. Traffic'll do that to you. But I have a feeling Josh isn't the kind of guy who worries about using his turn signals or driving the speed limit anyway.