What's Outside Your Window?

As of this moment, there is a crew of landscapers digging, raking, pounding, and shoveling within 10 feet of me here at the computer.  It's a little disconcerting, but that's my problem.  

I am glad they're here, and glad, for their sakes, it's not 90-something degrees and 90 percent humidity like it was yesterday.  Although I wouldn't know for sure how hot it was because my thermometer broke.  But so hot that it felt like opening the door to a sauna when I said good morning to Larry the Landscaper, who showed up at 6:45 a.m. yesterday.  SIX FORTY-FIVE.  I heard the truck in the driveway and bolted out of bed, making a mad dash for clothing and a hairbrush.  Adrenaline, anyone?

Larry brought reinforcements today, two strapping young men who look like they've been lifting paving stones, swinging sledgehammers, and shoveling rock all summer.  One of them will probably have to crawl up under the deck to do some work at some point today, for which I am so sorry.  I bet they shoot rock-paper-scissors for that job.  Or maybe compare biceps measurements.

Because all my windows in the parts of the house I inhabit during the day—office, kitchen, basement sewing room—all face the area where the guys are working directly outside said windows, I have done what any reasonable person would do:  Pull the shades.  

It's not so much that I'm skeeved out by the possibility of these guys looking in on me (okay, there is that), but I'm sitting here on my duff in air-conditioned comfort, sipping coffee and staring at a screen, while they're toiling in the blazing sun.

If their shirts come off, I may have to reconsider.