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The Sound of the Jackhammer is Heard in Our Land
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Actually, it's the sound of the jackhammer being heard in the schoolyard across the street at 7:35-effing-o'clock, thankyouverymuch. Up until that time it had been a lovely, warm but not hot, serene early morning. The school across from my house is an elementary school with no summer school program--not a sound all summer.

So, why do they have to work on a Saturday morning all of a sudden? They had all of July and half of August to do the work during regular work hours. Perhaps I should call my local pork barrel procurator and complain. Or ask for some bacon. Or something.

I haven't complained about the noise since the time a few years ago when they started construction on the new classroom bungalows at 7 a.m. on an Easter Sunday morning. Jackhammer frenzy with much yodeling, "Jose! Ven aqui!" and other sweet songs.

They're scaring the squirrels and the bunnies. The cats have gone to cover. SO is, as usual, dead to the world. A deceased person could take his correspondence course.

Maybe I should go wake him up so he can be properly annoyed.

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