Brief Interview with Me#1: What happens when they start pouring the cement foundation for the construction area next to your apartment complex?

I'm so glad you asked...well, first, I'd say that you get a little message from the complex manager stating that this should cause no trouble whatsoever but to call if you encounter any. This is a sure sign that said activity will cause a hell of a lot of trouble and not to bother her.

Interesting. When might one expect this cement pouring to start?

In my case, it started around 1 in the morning. When I was asleep. Be assured that I woke up, cursed a couple dozen times, and inserted my handy 32-decibel-rated earplugs to block out the noise.

So, what does your typical cement-pouring endeavor sound like?

I'd say that it sounds like a copier and a paper shredder operating at the same time about 10 feet away from your bed. I mean, assuming you're in your bed when this starts. Ohyeah, and there's the incessant "backing up" beeping like you get from a commerical truck. And occasionally what sounds like a forensic expert cutting through bone. Did I mention that this happens at 1 in the morning? This happens at 1 in the morning.

In your estimation, what is worse—the sound of cement being poured in the construction area next to your house or your loud neighbors?

Good question...that one takes a lot of thought. I'd have to say "loud neighbors." With the cement mixing, you get a steady stream of predictible noise. With the loud neighbors, you never know when it's time to slam a door, cannonball into the pool, "woo-hoo!" upon exiting one's apartment, or simply throw a shoe repeatedly against a neighbor's wall. See, these are less consistent noises, but they are more likely to drive me into a psychotic rage. Plus, the earplugs don't block all of this.

Did you ever confront your neighbors about this noise or register a complaint?
Yes and yes. At the aforementioned "shoe" episode, I scared a little sense into them. After about the third or forth shoe hit, I threw open the door, jutted out my p-'jammied torso, and proclaimed, "DUDE! What the F***!?!" This caused the five male shoe-throwers (and/or shoe-throwing accomplices) to scatter. Not too shabby for an ovaried-one. Plus, just last weekend, I lodged a formal noise complaint against them with my complex. I'm talking a typed, itemized list and everything.

What if neither of these actions works?

If neither of these actions is fruitful, I happen to know the location of a soft sheet of newly-poured cement...