Sometimes -- well, often -- Greg and I will see something, turn to the other and say "Why? Because it's Mexico." Could be gaping holes in the sidewalk, goats on the tollroad, a pickup truck cambio named "Buks Boony" and decorated with a certain Warner Bros. creation, or one of Oaxaca's seemingly daily parades or fiestas. (When was the last time you saw Candlemas celebrated? Who even knows what Candlemas is?)

Last night was one of those Because It's Mexico moments; unfortunately, the moment, the very very long moment, was the workcrew busy on the street outside our apartment with jackhammer and generator and breaker bar and shovels, from 10pm until just before 5am this morning. Why, in God's name, are they working mids? Why? Because It's Mexico.

Sometime just after midnight, when we realized our busy bees were in it for the long haul, I told Greg to grab a pair of earplugs so he could get some rest before the alarm went off at 6am. Shortly after he settled back into bed, I began to worry that the workers might disrupt our electricity; it's happened several times before during street repairs (if you can call the results repairs), so in addition to tossing and turning to the mechanical sounds of the jackhammer I kept grabbing my glasses to take a look at the clock.

Ugh. And I thought the cat was bad.