Remember back when I had just started this blog and I was complaining about the endless racket from the house next door? they were converting a single villa into a six flat apartment block, and the noise shook the floors of our house from six am until nine pm.
Our relationship with the construction guys had it's ups and downs, with things finally coming to a head one friday morning when they started banging at six. Stone went over and explaned that if they did that again on a friday morning he would grab a gun and shoot each guy one by one. They called the supervisor and he showed up and Stone told him that he would shoot him too. The supervisor called the Omani owner who showed up and said that you cant' threaten to shoot people, to which Stone reported that you can't shake the fucking floors with jackhammering at Six O clock on a friday morning either, and if he preferred we could involve the ROP and the municipality.
The Omani owner looked over at the Lazy Pakistani "supervisor" Who spent most mornings supervising the inside of his eyelids from the comfort of his Air conditioned Prado, and whacked him. After that Friday mornings were quieter,and the construction guys would try and find quiet work to do until seven. We would give them fresh fruit from our trees, and they would help carry grceries for me from the store across the street.
I only had harsh words with them them one other time, which was when they were applying a layer of concrete to the outside of thier building, and also, inadvertantly, to my house, the windows, and to the floor of my patio, and to our patio furniture, and to our freshly washed laundry hanging in our yard.
I climbed the scaffolding, whipped the trowell out of one guy's hand, and said something like "Godfuckingdamnit you morons, if you're going to spray everything in the yard with concrete then get down here and help me move the laundry line! " We looked after each other during the Cyclone, and Stone and I made sure they got fed since thier Company aparrently forgot about them for two weeks following the storm. They would sometimes come over and play with the baby in the evenings.
Still, the endless banging and the constant spatter of paint and concrete all over our house and yard, and the random but occasional objects (brick, paint can, 2X4) falling from the sky into us got old fast. So when they finally finished thier work and went away it was like a dream come true.
Or so I thought.
Each of the six flats has been leased to famalies with kids between the ages of 4 and 10. They love Football, and play directly below my bedroom window from 10:00-14:00 and from 16:00-22:00 every day. All ten of them, screaming and chasing one ball around, all day long.
Sadly, these kids really really, really, suck at Football. They suck so badly that I am considering paying for all of them to attend some sort of football coaching camp for the football-challenged. How do I know they suck? Because four times today, three times yesterday and at least twice a day, every day for the last month they have managed to kick the soccer ball into our yard. So, four times today, three times yesterday, and at least twice a day, every day for the last month they have rung the bell, interrupting me, and often waking the baby.
I have disconnected the bell now, and taken the soccer ball away. They can have it back tomorrow.
I have a new wish now, I wish there were a safe park for the kids in my neighbourhood to play in. All we have are empty lots strewn with trash and construction debris. Which is a little pathetic when you think about how much money the municipality spends landscaping round abouts and highway verges.
More tomorrow, when I will be lighting candles instead of cursing the darlness.