I hear loud banging, like long metal beams dropping on the sidewalk outside my window.
I look out and see exactly that: long metal beams being dropped on my sidewalk.
About ten workmen are unloading a truck. It's filled with all sorts of stuff that's going to be erected in front of my bedroom and living room windows. Every ten years, by law, NYC requires repointing. In layman's terms, I think that means replacing the gunk between all the bricks.
Creating a scaffold is the first step in this very long process. That's what the workers are doing today.
All day I listen to impossibly loud banging. The beams are not lowered slowly. They are dropped. First on the sidewalk. And later on the planks outside my windows. Metal makes a lot of noise.
Last time repointing was done I remember two things. It took forever. And, more alarmingly, a large extended family of mice now had easier access to my apartment, and decided to camp out in my stove. It was an absolute nightmare.
So now my street view is totally obstructed. I can no longer see if it's warm or cold by what people are wearing. I can no longer see if the red blinking truck is for a fire engine in front of my building or for the one next door. And I can no longer see the trees that line my street and that one day soon (assuming this winter will one day end) will bear cascades of white blossoms.
But on the positive side, I finally have a wrap-around terrace.
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