No, I'm Afraid You're Wrong About That

Have you been thinking that with the repair work in my building coming to an end (why no, it's not done yet! yes, they've been here on and off since February), my noise complaints were going to be over?

Oh, no.

Let me tell you.

A year ago, a couple bought the penthouse, which is just above us, and since it hasn't been truly renovated since the building went up 30 years ago, we were not at all surprised that they would want to have a lot of work done on it. We were pleased, though, that they were planning to live there for two years (or the snowbird portion of two years) in order to decide exactly what they wanted to do.

Except that they changed their minds, and they're doing it this year. They expect it to start in June, and hopefully .... hopefully! .... be done by November.

November.

Six months.

During the pandemic.

And I work from home.

I had the worst time staying polite while she was telling me about this, since I wanted to wail and snarl and howl, but I got the feeling she was hoping I would tell her that it was okay, not a problem, it will be fine. Yeah, no. I kept up the good face of "oh of course, if it has to be done," etc, but it's going to be terrible for us, basically, and I couldn't get past that to reassure her.

We have a hope that after the initial cacophony of demo, it will only be annoying, and not unlivable. But really, given how 2020 has gone, how optimistic can one be?

And when she asked me, hopefully, if maybe Mom and I were planning any trips this summer...well, no, we weren't planning any before the global pandemic started, and we certainly aren't planning any now. Sheesh, woman.