In keeping with the public’s design that one may make a complaint to the proper authorities, I made one last week, only to be ignored. Therefore, I must render an account of what took place again — late last night — on the residential streets of our peaceful town, Nelson.
Imagine if you will, the hour is approximately 1 a.m., when such a calamity of noise rose abruptly in through my bedroom’s closed windows.
The many who were also made to awake were thus arrested by the havoc of the multitude of beeps, forced in listening to at least three sorts of engines that compounded it, and also struck with the perplexity that it was produced without foresight in such the late hour.
As the sleepless pondered on this and someone of authority’s lack of consciousness, they must have felt like me, a terrible conviction of the uncertainty of being participants in the taxes attributed to this necessary but improperly regulated service.
And seemingly being statuesque in attendance from my balcony’s window, all this was indeed sustained with holding stare, which in conjunction with the general confusion of the many machines misappropriated at this late hour, conveyed the impression that my earlier complaint though politely made, was merely taken as an insult.
And all this time while standing before what could appear as my complaint’s consequence, I beheld the same abysmal perspective of another night of rest approaching sheer ruin. The workers themselves too — in this single vicinity — would journey this ill-mannered course along time (40 minutes) with my astonishment for their lack of the conscientiousness.
With one discriminating eye staring with congenial forbearance into the callousness of someone’s oversight, and that protruding other — indiscriminately out of its socket from lack of a peaceful sleep, I somehow retained my cool; for there will be always — at least — that fresh breath of wisdom ushering forth still from the heavens and in through my closed balcony’s window… that there must still be some other option.
Hence, when I turned my eyes form this Dr. Seuss nightmare and my ears from the upheaval of noise this circus resurrected (beep, beep, beep, from three — not one truck) the intense need of ear plugs had again been summoned as a consolation; thus, for a next day’s immediate purchase.
Trinity De‘la Falcons