Quality of Life

Maybe part of the reason life seems less worth living these days is that I have been awakened -- and kept awake for all the daylight hours -- by the sound of hammering and belt-sanding and circular-sawing ten feet from my bedroom window for more than two months now. It's bad enough that my upstairs neighbor practices his bass for hours and hours on end. But now this. I hate to be a pest, but I think I'm miserable about it.

The other thing that is disturbing about this is the fact that I seem to be unable to conjure up any creativity beyond the simple act of complaining. That brings me down.