A curse on all their houses

Sleep deprivation. Words cannot express the depth of my ire at the insane amount of construction that has been going on outside my house for the last....forever. The bloody construction workers are supposed to start work at seven a.m. That, my friends, is too. damn. early. for anything except sleep, sleep, and oh yeah, cats running across my face. But they don't start at seven a.m.... no-no-no-no-NO...they start at A QUARTER PAST SIX. So many times I've laid in bed, cursing them, and realizing that by the time I get up, get dressed, put on my contacts and go out there, it will be five to seven. Which will make me (officially) the Mean and Crazy Neighbor Lady who pisses and moans about things that she cannot change.

Doesn't this house look like it's...winking? The pile of pipes in front of it are all about 18 inches in diameter, and really do stretch from end to end of that house. That house, by the way...is what I see if I open my curtains. (Which I no longer do, because I don't like being ogled by nasty, rude, careless construction workers.) I use the adjectives 'nasty, rude and careless' with regard to these people, not to denigrate them, but to describe them in contrast to the majority of construction workers. My father has been up on roofs, on the side of houses, etc. for almost thirty years. I'm sure that in that time he's looked appreciatively at a woman or two...but I'm equally sure that he never made any of them feel uncomfortable, violated or uneasy about entering or leaving their house.

Aside from the creepy construction workers, there is the issue of the noise. The noise (not to mention the dust that is flying through the air twenty-four dollars a day) gives me regular headaches and has done an amazing job at destroying my concentration.

There have been massive cranes and trucks and I don't know what, all going, "Beeeeeep! Beeeeeep! Beeeeep!" and dragging this crap up and down, up and down, the street. These are sewer liner tubes made of sections of concrete about ten by ten feet. The boys in this picture are just a bit shorter than me, and are about half as tall as these things. Guess what time of day they drag these things around?

Here are SOME of the times they've been carting this crap around, with the most insane racket-y noises I've ever heard.

-1 am. Yes, one in the morning. I was up.
-6 am
-8 am
-2 pm
-6 pm
-10 pm - This time I stomped outside and chewed the truck driver out. He turned off his engine with the parting salvo of, "Geez, lady, I don't know why you're so mad!" Ummmm.... can you imagine why I shouldn't be mad?

Huge scoop thingy that is parked across the street from my house, gently touched by the rays of the sun.

I took these pictures so that when I sue for facial plastic surgery to repair the bags under my eyes, I have proof of not sleeping for years on end. Mental damage, to be sure. How much do you think I could get?