Good lord. I don't really have any violent tendencies (love violent movies, though), but today, I've been pushed to the brink.
After waking this morning to my mac & cheese, I hobbled to my little perch near the hallway. I got myself all set up, enough pillows, even sprung for a mouse for my computer, glass of water next to me, juuuuust ready to sign on and start working away. What a productive person I would be today.
Sweet Spanish music begins drifting up the stairwell.
"Ahh, how neat," I thought, "some lovely Latin woman is downstairs, starting her day, probably playing these soporific lullabies to her child as she prepares him his breakfast burritoes," I mused naively.
I put in my headphones, started tip-tapping away, when BAM!
The most violent jackhammering I've ever heard, imagined or feared.
This music was for no lovely little mother-son pair. It was for the lumbering, oafish men who've been chattering at the top of their lungs all day; that is, all day when they're not trying to cause me to drag my hobbled body to the window and throw it out.
Reminded me of Michael Douglas in "Falling Down." Very short clip, but sure captures the film's spirit, as well as my own mental state at the moment.