I will finally complain. They have wood stacked in the building proper. I don’t know if this a week long renovation, though today’s a perfect day and nobody is working. I don’t know if it’s supposed to take a month, a year or like last time, over two years.
Thought I was going to lose my mind last time. It was after 9/11 and my Mom’s death. It was distracting, and for times would go on for five or six days a week, other times a day or two a week. Sometimes on Saturdays and Sundays
It’s difficult to remain upbeat and all I love New York when construction is paramount. Oh but think of the future. I have lived in this city for 31 years. I can trace the history of my life through construction.
When the old Sony and IBM buildings were built, some blocks from my apartment on East 63rd, I lost my light to the shadows of the buildings. Plants I had nurtured died.
I can go on. Frankly I never thought of a memoir in the form of city construction before. My idea.
I don’t have to think of the future of New York. I need to think of the present. And my present is very dependent on this building.
Selfish of me to want to work in my own apartment. Frankly I like the screen of the Imac much more than the Macbook. Frankly it doesn’t matter. I’m entitled to know what is happening and to be given a approximate time table.
I’m the biggest wimp in real life. I don’t see anything good happening out of complaining. If I don’t, I won’t be able to live with myself.
If you complain about construction in this city, nobody takes you seriously. Unless you’re Adrienne Shelly and are killed because you complained. Then you get taken seriously.
But alas, you’re dead.