There are chain saws roaring on either side of my apartment this morning. It's got me on edge. I understand that people do feel very threatened by the overgrowth of residential oak branches and palm fronds. After all, you can't let those trees get the upper limb. We must hack at them and trim them back! It's the only language they understand. Give a tree an inch and it'll be a bastard on your back for life.
I know for a fact that the crew operating the chain saws get a macho kick from the sound they make. They're just a bit too enthused to rev the gas motors in salivating anticipation of the actual cutting. It's the old primordial snarl of territorial rights. Yes, they want to taunt the tree before doing their merciless act of mechanical chewing and spitting up chunks of debris.
So, I guess there's nothing I can do about this noise situation... or is there? I mean, what can I do? I feel like John Henry vs. the legendary "Inky-Poo". It would be' like arguing with an automatic weapon. But I'm determined not to be out-whined by a machine -not as long as I've got breath and a Blog. At least for my peace of mind, I need to go out there and actually see if he city didn't, in fact, hire a bunch of guys just to dramatically interrupt my normal sleep pattern. ...I'm gonna go out and have a look.
OK, I'm back. Aside from the chiding I took for wearing my blue velvet pajamas with the cute drop drawer hatch, they admitted that there was no purpose to infernal chain saw racket beyond the sheer sadistic pleasure of annoying me. What a relief! For a moment there I though I was paranoid.