Even on Sundays

The painters have started to work on our house. They came at 8 a.m. Friday. Then 8 a.m. Saturday.

And then -- yes -- at 8 a.m. Sunday. That's this morning. They don't seem to take any days off.

They were sanding (which is very loud). Now priming (which stinks). And they play their boombox really loud, and – which is the worst, really, of everything – they sing along.

Off to the health club. Then off to see Superman. Just so I don’t have to be here.