There are some days when I sit on my back porch and yearn for the days when good old-fashioned human construction crews would invade our neighborhood for nine months, and build another McMansion.
Sure, I’d complain about the crews that started pounding at 6:30 a.m., violating the “no construction before 8 a.m.” town rule. But, man, those were the glory days. I had no idea how lucky we were.
Now, we only know a new house is coming when the skies darken and a swarm of construction copters swoop down from the heavens above. Thousands upon thousands of these mad creatures dip, bank, settle and rise in a chaotic dance that scares the hell out of me. They move too fast for my feeble human brain to follow, and it constantly seems as though they will crash, lose control, and perhaps annihilate nearby creatures (like me.) But they never do.
They just chip away at the old house, biting it into pieces, making it literally disappear in a day, and then proceed to build a new one. No more sheetrock, pre-made windows or large beams. The copters use tiny components that resemble grownup Lego-like blocks, which they fuse into place. No piece weighs more than 14 ounces, but the resulting houses are far stronger than mine.
My dogs won’t leave the house when the copters swoop in; I have to carry them outside to do their business, and they tremble the whole time. I do, too.