Ratta-tat-tat!
Ratta-tat-tat! Grumble-ugh! Ratta-tat-tat. These are the sounds I hear late into the night. While I wish it were the mystery pretty from Saturday night, in reality, it’s the road crew outside my hotel.
Ratta-tat-tat! Grumble-ugh! Ratta-tat-tat.
All night they tear up the streets and cause havoc. All night they work on the city streets. All night they drive me insane, or thinking a shoe to throw. Why can’t they work from 6pm to midnight, or only on the weekend? Why can’t think of a different place or project to do.
Don’t they know I am important, and should treated as such?
