Day Twenty-Seven - Brownies Go a Long Way Towards Good Will

A few days ago, I spent a lovely day in downtown St. Augustine. I got off of the main strip of St. George Street where there are quite a few shops, but most of them are a disappointment. Full of crappy t-shirts, crappy key chains, crappy shell jewelry, crappy Christmas ornaments that have "St. Augustine - 2008" engraved on them. Just tacky.

Anyway, I ended up going down these funny little streets and discovered all sorts of retail treasures and historical sites. They were unique and quaint and - I don't use this word often mind you - delightful! It was fun and peaceful and relaxing.

After that, I came home, changed into my swimsuit and spent two hours on the beach and read and listened to music and stared at the water. It was fun and peaceful and relaxing.

I strolled back to the condo all aglow in the rays of my fun and peaceful and relaxing great day. I was looking forward to doing some creating, having a little dinner, a lot of wine, a fun movie and you know, enjoying the fun and peaceful and relaxing evening ahead.

As I approached the complex from the boardwalk though I heard a loud banging - no, a HELLATIOUSLY loud banging - and I thought, Oh no, they've begun the stucco work on my side of the complex now. Ugh!

But it was much worse.

I got to the third floor and walked towards my unit and it's getting louder and louder. The walkway is shaking beneath me. I unlock my door and walk in and every light fixture and ocean-themed wall hanging were throbbing. It was 7.8 on the Richter scale for sure. DID I MENTION THAT IT WAS REALLY LOUD?! And right above me? Yup, the unit right above mine. Of course, I mean, it's me right? Why should I be surprised?

I tried to call the front desk to find out if it was their people working on something or if there was some other project going on and guess what? THEY COULDN'T HEAR ME! And I couldn't hear them either. Dammit. I sat on the couch for a few minutes thinking, I can do this. I'm sure it's short lived. I'll just suck it up.

Um, not so much. I lasted two minutes and 32 seconds before I marched myself up there to have a little talk with Mr. Noisyman. I knocked and knocked but, of course, he couldn't hear me. So, finally I just marched right in and started shouting at the top of my lungs until someone eventually heard me, and out comes Mr. Dusty Noisyman. First name, Dusty, last name, Noisyman. Turns out he was JACKHAMMERING the tile in the two bathrooms as the first stage of some renovations.

I took a deep breath, pasted a smile on my face and politely explained that there's no way this can happen. It was intolerable. Wouldn't you know it, he was the nicest man! He apologized and explained and we made arrangements for a time that was good for me to be out the next day for a short while so he could finish the jackhammering. I had some errands to run anyway so it all worked out.

The next day I made him a big plate of brownies and you would've thought I had handed him a plate of gold. He's checked in everyday since to make sure it's not too loud. I figure that he's either hitting on me, in search of more brownies or is just a nice guy. I suspect he's just a nice guy. Thank you Dusty.