I can’t say for certain what a jack hammer sounds like when it’s punching a hole in the wall big enough to fit a space shuttle, but I imagine it sounds very similar to the noise that was echoing through my apartment the other day. I could hear it when I got home as I walked up to my door. I didn’t remember putting in a work order for a turbo engine so I cautiously turned the knob and slowly opened the door. I expected to see a team of construction workers turning the inside of my apartment into the Taj Mahal, but all I saw were my cats sitting in the living room looking blurry-eyed and grumpy (for once THEY knew what it was like to be rudely woken up). The drilling and pounding literally shook the walls for three (3) hours before I finally called the front desk:
Me (shouting over the drilling): Uh… hi, what’s going on with the construction in the next condo?
Front desk: It’s not next door. It’s four floors down. And it’ll be going on for a while.
Me (still shouting over the drilling): So, a few more hours?
Front desk: No, a few more months.
(the drilling mercifully drowned out what I said next)
Now don’t get me wrong, it’s great to see construction going on during this economy, but why can’t it be done while I’m at work, say 3am? The condo association treated this suggestion the same way I treat the pushy (and at times inappropriate) salesmen at the cell phone kiosks in the mall; by ignoring it. Something about other people sleeping at that time. But talk about turning lemons into lemonade… now that my afternoon nap time is an exercise in futility I’ve decided to use that time to just exercise. Seriously. I’m going to try it. Exercise. Stop laughing, mom. It was about this time last year that I tried to get into working out and it lasted all of two-and-a-half days. Each time I rewarded myself with fried chicken.
But now I’m ready to take fitness seriously by working out with a personal trainer. It’s a little more expensive than following a DVD of Jillian Michaels in my living room, but honestly, that DVD is still in the plastic… and has been for a year. I wouldn’t be able to hear it over the construction anyway. So now the only drilling I hear is from the trainer’s mouth and, frankly, the sound of “Just one more” is almost worse.