This morning I was awoken by loud banging right next to my house. “Fucking construction workers,” I growled, turned around in bed, and tried to fall asleep again. I tossed and tossed, but without any success. It was an hour before my waking time, too. Imagine, at this moment there are construction crews in three out of seven neighboring houses. And they all do their best not let me sleep in the morning. As is their rude habit, they are the loudest when they start, and then the racket peters out during the day. “It is good that houses around you are getting fixed,” people tell me in mock sympathy. “One fine day all the work will come to an end,” they continue. I cannot disagree with any of that, but the noise and dust have been with me for years already. The trouble is that none of the owners of houses around me have enough money to finish the job in one go, and so every house takes years to complete. “Fucking construction workers,” I growl to myself when no-one can hear me.