The house right beside ours was bought by a shrimp exporter. Turned it into bodega of sorts, also into some form of quarters for its workers. In the first two weeks of their occupancy a cacophony of construction sounds could be heard emanating from the house, hammers, band saw blades, power drills, the noisiest of equipment you can think of, they had it. They had a karaoke machine too, which they abused into the wee hours of the night.
Then, after a month or so, quiet. Not a peep. No iron chairs being dragged across a stone floor, no karaoke party till the morning sun. I’m not much of a neighborhood gossip so I don’t know what’s going on. I’d really rather just sit back and enjoy the quiet. However temporary it may be.