The Money Pit

I'm sitting here in my lovely apartment, on a lovely day, at my semi-cluttered desk trying to get some work done.

But unfortunately the only work that's going on is the work in the apartment below me.

I came home the other night to a note informing me (well, warning me) that workers would be in on Monday to tear down the ceiling of the apartment below me, which is being renovated. This is actually a good thing, because I've gone the whole winter having a cold, heatless shell of a room below me, and my gas bills have not been kind to me because of it. So tear out the ceiling they must. After which they will finally be able to insulate and replaster, and things up here will suddenly start to be a lot warmer... And quieter!

But unfortunately this process of "tearing down" involves an awful lot of banging. And ripping. And gouging. In fact, by the sound of it, I think a wall just fell down. It's frightening. My lamps are shaking. The floor is vibrating. I'm nervous. This whole thing is bringing to mind the movie "The Money Pit" and I'm starting to have paranoid visions of my desk falling through the floor as I type.

But all I can do is hope the construction of this building is as reliable as it looks. And I just tell myself that it will all be over with soon.

I hope.

But truth be told, my whole building is undergoing an immaculate makeover, and I'm not sure it will ever be over! So far I've suffered through drilling, hammering, sawing, painting, water shut-offs, unexpected false fire alarms... Sigh. The price of beauty.

And what's next on the agenda? They'll be refinishing and recarpeting the hallways.

But at least I'll be so intoxicated by the carpet glue fumes that I won't really care.