When I took Kimmy for a walk today, I counted the number of houses being ripped apart within that small radius of my pooch’s regular route. Five. The roads are dusty, there are huge trucks bearing all kinds of sinus-inducing mountains of sand/cement/powdery stuff, the makeshift workers’ quarters for each of these sites are barely decent and I don’t think there are proper toilets, because there are smells coming from some of the in-progress houses I pass by. It is so strange, to have these atrocious conditions exist because some people are gettin’ rich and want a nice spanking house quick to show they are loaded. I think one reason why I don’t like the pounding and clanging on weekends is because it invariably points to the uglier side of this booming property market.
In any case, we are moving out of this place we’ve called home for around 14 years. For the last few weeks, we’ve been at the mercy of some rather psychologically manipulative property agents. It’s like one huge snatchfest out there, and it seems like there are some really vicious home seekers around. I hope interaction with both these groups of people will be minimized soon. *shudder*