These days, I need neither a watch nor an alarm clock to know that it’s 7 am in the morning. Why? Because the workers, who finally decided to actually do something with the scaffolding they’ve been setting up for a month now, are kind enough to notify me of when it’s about time to get up. They do so, by banging and drilling, hammering and knocking on the other side of the wall that makes up my bedroom, bathroom, and living room walls. Yay, for the fact that neither on weekdays, nor on weekends, I ever get to sleep in again. But then, I’m fully aware that there’s no reason to complain. 7 am, after all, isn’t 6 am, right?