Shattered

Followers of this blog know that we live in an old house (by North American standards). It is part of a three-unit limestone row built in 1842. In fact, much of the construction in my neighbourhood dates from the early nineteenth century, so renovation is a constant here. At the moment, my immediate neighbours (the ones on the other side of our living room wall) are upgrading. Actually, they have gutted the inside of their home and are in the process of putting it back together. So, I read the Yarn Harlot's post yesterday with some amusement and sympathy. Over the last month we have endured limestone dust from sandblasting (it came under the baseboards and up through the basement), heavy vibration (enough to make your breakfast tea jiggle), and constant noise. The neighbours were decent enough to pay to have our house cleaned after the dust incident, but it's wearing, especially because Bill and I are home so much of the time. The climax came a few days ago when I returned home to find a particularly beloved piece of art in pieces on the floor.

It was purchased years ago at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival and, while it was not valuable, it was precious to me. I'm hoping that Crazy Glue will provide some sort of solution. Sigh.
To obtain some respite from the pounding, scraping, and vibrating, I took a brief excursion yesterday along the lake.

 

 

 

Nothing like water, a ferry ride, and a flotilla of sailboats to soothe frustration and anger. I've got a grip now, and have things in perspective. The improved place next door will add to the value of our home--especially when the sound-proofing is complete.

The horseshoe cable and seed stitch jacket proceeds apace. This version is part of the pattern-writing process. It feels good to be clearing away the backlog of designs that have been awaiting formal writing up.

 

Where is this going? Here's a glimpse (some of you may remember this from last summer, before I pulled it from the blog while I decided what to do with it).

Now I have to run next door to ask the workmen to please turn down their radio. The heavy bass migraine-inducing beat pounding through the wall is threatening to shatter my nerves.
P.S. The neighbours on the other end of our row just dragged a power saw onto their back deck and started sawing chunks of granite. The screeching is akin to dragging your nails across a blackboard (do these still exist or have they gone the way of cursive?) Help!
P.P.S. Gwin Gryffon, a few blocks from my front door, is having a sale on Debbie Bliss yarns. Great bargains, but make sure you ask to look in the back room. Might have to go get some to calm myself down.