Just to add to the general yuck of having a construction site within spitting distance of my house, I arrived home this morning from running a few errands to find that power tools were being charged on my front doorstep. My driveway was partially blocked by a worker's car and our lawn is now littered with empty water bottles and cigarette butts.
Oh, and the port-o-potty is four feet from my daughter's window. Nice.
One guy sees me pull into the driveway and comes over to remove the tools telling me that, "the boy" plugged them in there and that he didn't tell the wayward lad to do so. What an arse. "The boy" ? Really? I said absolutely nothing. I just stared, enjoying his discomfort, as he scrambled to unplug.
I'm so glad we're paying a fortune in rent.
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