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They’ve been doing construction on the commercial space below my apartment—since before Christmas, in fact—and I adamantly believe that I have had some kind of stress fracture in my brain from the combination of non-stop noise (often starting at 7am and continuing ceaselessly until 5 or 6 pm), and whatever chemicals and dust are seeping through the floordboards, bits of which set off my fire alarms twice last week.

Today, they’ve initiated the 9am Saturday shift for “sanding concrete floors,” the legitimacy of which I checked only after calling and reporting their asses to the relevant city authorities. Turns out, they’ve got the permit, right there on the window. Why is it that I am not asked before such permit is given? And why have I not been asked to take air and sound samples? Because if I had, these people would have been “sound tenting” since last year. Yes, people. I knowz the codes now.

So, I’m now so stressed and disordered in my thinking that I’m going to spend gobs of money I’d rather save in case of homelessness and joblessness in order to not have to sleep in this pit of screaming hell for a few nights. Have I mentioned there was also some kind of post-kill hunter gathering last night in the floors above? Or maybe it was a fraternity initiation or something like that? Whatever it was required penetrating, skull crushing screaming in 2 minute intervals. I am, without a doubt, losing my mind.

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