If you buy a dream home while heavily pregnant and then this happens

I have fled. From my house. Not for long, just to get a cappuccino oat milk to go for 3 euros and 45 cents a few streets away.

I walk back and hear it already, and I am still about three streets away from my house. But I hear it. Loud too. And I could cry. Honestly cry. I am tired and I want to lie in bed and I can't, because there is construction going on. Not by us: we bought a house that was basically completely finished. Walls didn't even need to be painted, no lamp needed to be hung, no bathroom tile needed to be replaced: everything was in place. Perfect. Because we really don't have the energy for that, now that the twins are almost here. But literally almost. I'm talking about a maximum of a few weeks.

But as it goes with new houses: you buy a house and you get your neighbors as a gift with your purchase. Whether you want it or not: you don't choose them. And there's so little you can do about it. But what happens? We found a note in the mailbox, very neatly: ‘Hi! We are your new neighbors on the right and we are going to renovate for the next 14 weeks. We will move in mid-April!’ My god. And I don't mean just a little bit of silly painting or half-heartedly laying a new floor, no, I'm talking about hardcore stripping and demolishing houses and taking out walls and kitchens and bathrooms and God knows what else. I'm really not exaggerating this time, but... This. Is. Hell. And it's not even my hell, you know?

I can't go anywhere, because I work from home precisely because I can't sit all day in such an overpriced coffee shop with a belly like a watermelon. Thirty weeks pregnant with twins: I can do nothing. Just lie around with a laptop. And that is now being... drilled through my nose. Not funny. The problem is that they seem like really nice people and I would like to have some friendly neighbors next to me in April, so I also don't want to complain.

And so I sit here with a noise-canceling headset on my head longing for, I dare not write it down, but still... My old house.