I have the sneaking suspicion that the construction workers out back have smashed a hole in my building. Call it a hunch. My intuition is rarely wrong about these things. And if my intuition is faulty I think the deafening CRASH that I could feel through the floor, followed thirty seconds later by the abrupt cessation of all machinery noise out back for the first time today serves some kind of ominous meaning.

I am already sick of augers and pile drivers starting up every morning and persisting through the day until 5:00pm. They’ve still got lots to do to prep that site for the landing of the six story monstrosity that’s reserved the spot. At least I’m not on the back side of the building. They’ve each taken turns with the pile driver being literally inches from their windows. I get street noise, but at least there aren’t high tension cables and pulleys lashing about outside my kitchen.

Frankly the neighborhood would have been better served with a nice little park. A fountain, some benches, some trees. Let the local kids tag up the back of the building, so long as they didn’t do anything offensive. Wouldn’t that be nice? Yeah well nice isn’t spelled p-r-o-f-i-t. Goddammit.

When I move to Montreal I want to be in a funky, busy neighborhood like this again, but I’ll make sure I’m at least half a block on the main drag. I’m getting tired of it all. I’m really looking forward to a porch, everyone in Montreal has a porch. Those French know how to live.


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