I am about to lose it. My sanity (what's left of it), my hair (from pulling it out), my teeth (from grinding).
It's all down to DRILLING.
It's hard enough to write well without the consistently jarring noise of the DRILL across the courtyard. Given the gaping holes where glass once was, the builders appear to be replacing the windows.
Now, if this was a normal neighbourhood with normal houses, the whole process probably wouldn't have taken more than a week. But since this is a neighbourhood with freakin' millionaires who live in their freakin' millionaire houses with freakin' millions of windows, of course it's taken almost two months -- and counting.
I don't have anything against the builders themselves. I can take their burping, their shouting, the ABBA music they listen to, and even their very resonant farts. I just can't take the BL**DY DRILL!
So, I ask you. What should I do to stop the DRILL?
A. Take them cups of tea and ask them sweetly to cease and desist.
B. Flash them from my window and stun them into silence.
C. Using sorcery, arrange for a constant cloud-burst overhead so they can't work outside. 'Cause I can do that, of course.
Together, we can rid the world of DRILLS. Because a world with DRILLS is a world where I'm going FREAKIN' CRAZY!