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Men On Me

It started early last Friday morning—I got out of the shower and decided I wanted to know what the weather was like outside, so I opened my window: It was cool and crisp out; and as I looked directly down, I realized that some men were putting up scaffolding around the exterior of my building—at least that was my initial impression.

I shut the window, got dressed, and headed out. It was when I was outside that I realized that the scaffolding was, in fact, only one unit wide and it was going up directly next to my bedroom window—straight up to the roof. My impression revised, I headed to work, and when I got home Friday evening, there it was, a lone stack of scaffolding right up the side of the building, past my bedroom window, to the roof.

Immediately shut the window shade: I need not be on display to the world of roofers, unless they are cute and hot, something that while frequent in porn, happens about once in a million times in reality. Furthermore, if the workers were typical German workers, they would be on the roof at some obscenely early hour and bed-head hair is rarely attractive, usually repulsive.

Amazingly they weren’t on the roof at all on Saturday.

But this morning—my alarm went off at 6:30, I got in the shower, and by the time I finished my morning bathroom and dressing routine (I move slowly: today I was dressed and finished at 7:20), there were men walking on my head. It’s a stark contrast to workmen in America, where, in my experience, if they say they’re coming at 8, they might show up at 9:30 or 10.

It’s not clear to me what exactly they are doing, and, quite frankly, I don’t want to know. The window shade is down, and until they are finished, I have no incentive to sleep in, only incentive to rise and shine as early as possible.

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