In Boston, it's perfectly legal to torture your neighbors with loud and incesssant construction noise between 7 am and 6 pm every weekday and fill their homes with dust. We've learned to cherish weekends. We're spared the yelling and banging that starts every weekday at 7 am and goes on until close to 5 as major renovations are underway in our building. We stay in as much as we can on weekends, reveling in the quiet. We can read! We can write! We can hear ourselves think!
We probably have to endure just a couple more months of this, until the work is finished. But... I just learned that two buildings, right in front and in back of ours, are about to gut-renovated, too. This means that the noise may never end, and it could double just when our windows are finally open to the summer air.
But, today, it's lovely to see our calico, Bunnelina, basking peacefully in the sun. There's no generator roaring beneath her, no streams of profanity in an Irish focking accent, no workmen peeing in the garden behind her. This is something for which I can be briefly grateful.