Siding No More
I knew the day would come, but I hopelessly hoped it would be postponed indefinitely. The tearing-up of the street was but a test.
Three men drove up a short while ago in a van carrying scaffolding, and immediately started throwing it up along the front wall of our house. Give them another hour or two, and I'll probably have a stocky, buzz-headed, Polish man outside my window providing editorial commentary for the final draft of this posting. And then, sometime this afternoon, they'll pull out whatever angry machine it is that tears off siding, and the solace of my life will dissolve into anarchy.
How many days of waking up at 7am because someone just started sawing apart my wall? How many days will we actually have to go outside to figure out if it's sunny or not? I know the stuff there now leaks whenever it rains. And it's ugly as sin, a tacky, faux-wood, plastic sheath (if you're looking for beautiful, Brooklyn, Cosby-family brownstones, you're in the wrong neighborhood, friend). But is it worth a week or more of considerable disruption? It's not that bad if the doorframe drips when it rains, and the watermark on the ceiling never hurt anyone... I've actually grown to embrace the decorative aesthetic, and may try for the same in the living room.
Alas, resistance is futile. They're already done with the first level of scaffolding. I'll have to sleep with my head in a soundproof styrofoam ball for a while. If that doesn't work, maybe I'll just have to get up at 7:00 and do yoga or something.
Oh! There he is, everybody wave. Guess it's time to go...
Three men drove up a short while ago in a van carrying scaffolding, and immediately started throwing it up along the front wall of our house. Give them another hour or two, and I'll probably have a stocky, buzz-headed, Polish man outside my window providing editorial commentary for the final draft of this posting. And then, sometime this afternoon, they'll pull out whatever angry machine it is that tears off siding, and the solace of my life will dissolve into anarchy.
How many days of waking up at 7am because someone just started sawing apart my wall? How many days will we actually have to go outside to figure out if it's sunny or not? I know the stuff there now leaks whenever it rains. And it's ugly as sin, a tacky, faux-wood, plastic sheath (if you're looking for beautiful, Brooklyn, Cosby-family brownstones, you're in the wrong neighborhood, friend). But is it worth a week or more of considerable disruption? It's not that bad if the doorframe drips when it rains, and the watermark on the ceiling never hurt anyone... I've actually grown to embrace the decorative aesthetic, and may try for the same in the living room.
Alas, resistance is futile. They're already done with the first level of scaffolding. I'll have to sleep with my head in a soundproof styrofoam ball for a while. If that doesn't work, maybe I'll just have to get up at 7:00 and do yoga or something.
Oh! There he is, everybody wave. Guess it's time to go...
posted by David at 12:06 PM
2 Comments:
Noooooooooooooooo!!! The car alarm Saturday. The moving truck Sunday. And now... You want a yoga partner?
Sure, perhaps we can release our kundalinis together or something like that. Good luck getting inside. I don't recommend doing it with any notable divergence from sobriety.
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