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September 02, 2003: We're surrounded

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I've talked before about the fact that our office has no sound insulation and how annoying it is, but bear with me, because I'm going to talk about it again. What can I say, with the recent construction in the next-door office it's been on my mind a lot.

Today the construction wasn't as bad as it's been before, since it seems they are now laying carpets. This is actually a good thing, because if they are laying carpets, chances are pretty high they are nearly done with all the other banging, thumping, sawing, and other noise-producing activities involved in getting an office ready for new occupants. However, the carpet layers seemed to be big into the yelling and the arguing, and also the swearing.

I am not some quivering violet who is disturbed by a swear word every now and then. But when every other sentence includes references to bodily functions in some manner or another, it really starts getting to me. And it didn't help that they kept arguing with each other. Loudly.

Add to this the fact that the people downstairs were in rare form, especially the woman we have nicknamed The Chipmunk, and by the end of the day most of us had just about had it. The people downstairs usually aren't so awful as today (although with all the arguing and screeching going on this afternoon I swear it wouldn't surprise me to one day discover The Chipmunk had gone on a gun-toting rampage and shot her coworkers), and I know that the construction next door is nearly done. But lately I've been wondering if Murphy's Law will kick in with a vengeance and our soon-to-be next door neighbors will be the type who stomp up and down the stairs (that are over my head) like elephants and holler back and forth to each other even worse than The Chipmunk and her equally vocal coworkers, or worse yet, have insidiously annoying cell phone rings they keep at full volume. I worry about this because I know that if this does happen, and the people downstairs keep up with their daily tirades, one of these days I and my coworkers just might snap and take out the whole lot of them, armed with nothing more than industrial strength rubber bands, rolls of detailed construction plans, and a protractor.

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