The earliest known reference I have to the fuckbag builders is from May 23rd, when they took up the whole street and started on the building opposite. Well, they’re still fucking there.
For over four months now, they’ve been starting every morning at 7.30 with the heavy machinery. This, after they’ve already woken the whole neighbourhood by yelling greetings at each from the street to the rooftops, with return greetings going the other way.
Every morning I wake up cursing the fuckers.
Yelling is followed by drilling, is followed by chainsawing, is followed by jackhammering, is followed by sledgehammering, is followed by the rattling of building debris down a chute, is followed by the banging of concrete blocks into a metal skip, is followed by the beep-beep-beep of reversing trucks making deliveries, is followed by the clanging of deliveries being lowered from cranes – all accompanied by yelling so they can hear themselves above the din and by the screeching of an elevator they seem to ride up and down while banging on the scaffolding just for the hell of it. This goes on all day.
As I said, every morning I wake up cursing the fuckers. I never curse them enough.
They’re supposed to be converting attic spaces into more apartments for rent-paying subservients but I have no idea why it’s taking them so long, nor why they need to make such a racket.
In the meantime no one is allowed park on the street. On either side. I suppose all the neighbours must have sold their cars.
There’s no end in sight. I’ve been meaning to go over there and simply ask, “Wie lange dauert es noch denn?!” But every time I contemplate confrontation I know I’ll only hear answers I won’t like. These fuckers have the city in their pockets after all. They can do whatever the hell they want.
Tomorrow we’re going to Ireland. I can’t wait. In Ireland, there’s no building work at all.
These pictures were taken last month. The scene’s much the same now, albeit with fewer leaves on the trees.