Right outside the building from my desk, there are a bunch of construction workers (since I can hear and see them actually doing things, I won't qualify it anymore than that). They are (at least I think and hope that this is what they're doing) rebuilding the gazebo which burned down last summer. (I think it had help.)
Let me see. It is now the middle of May. The gazebo burned down in early August. That is over nine months in which there has been a barren space of land outside. Children have been conceived, carried, and delivered.
Now that the Monkey socks are done, there is room in the queue for the Ancient Oak ones. Except that these spent almost two days in time out, thinking about what they did after I totally arsed up the gauge on them. Grumble.
Thank God it's Friday.