body

The construction on my building is almost finished. It's taken a long time, and I'll be glad to see it all wrapped up and the construction workers gone.

The worst part of this whole experience is that, despite the fact that the management said that work would start at 9am each day, the workers actually start closer to 7. Furthermore, for some strange reason, all the loud clanging-banging work is only done in the morning, and by 10 it gets very quiet.

As you can imagine, it is very much not appreciated that they start work so early. Some of us are trying to sleep, for only in sleep can we escape the existential questions that plague our waking hours. Others are just tired. It was particularly annoying then they were working on my side of the building: I would be woken up by men outside my window, and panic because I was severely under-clothed for the occasion.

However, today I feel a great deal of warmth for the workers. They have won my heart with a single highly incongruous act.

One usually imagines construction workers as being very tough, rugged man's men. They like their beer cold, their women pregnant, and so on. This morning, I was suddenly brought into consciousness at 7:15 by very loud music playing. This isn't unusual, they often play music, though usually they manage to keep it quiet. Not only was it very, very loud, but the burly men were listening to... Enya.

When I fully woke myself up, I told myself it was a dream... After all, it didn't make any sense. Then, they started playing in again. They had the same song on loop, and I heard Wild Child about ten times this morning.