Grammar is living a life of semi-sanity at the moment. (Yes, yes, all comments regarding whether she ever had better than semi-sanity are taken as said.) Hot on the heels of the landscapers have come the sidingserfs, replacing all the cedar boards on the eastern face of our new home. They arrive before 7:30 each morning to set up, and soon thereafter, The Hammering commences. They hammer all day long. Bangbangbang bang bangbang bangbangbangbangbang bang bangbangbang…. It’s like the most exquisite form of torture.
Hunkered down in my office with the blinds closed as if in a bunker with the sounds of war around me, I type raggedly away to its irregular rhythm, pausing from time to time to turn the fan right beside me on or off. No, not because of the weather, which has been very pleasant, hasn’t it? No, Grammar suffers from that wonderful phenomenon known as the Hot Flash, but which might be more accurately described as The Precursor to Spontaneous Human Combustion. Seriously, sometimes it feels as if flames are literally going to erupt from the top of my head. It comes and goes, all day, all night, with its own hormonal rhythm (which does not, as it happens, match that of The Hammering).
Well, Grammar People, I’ll try not to blog at you again until I’m in a better mood, but I did enjoy my little rant, I must say.