On a warm breezy weekend morning, I love eating breakfast in the shade of our mango tree with a big mug of coffee and a good book.

Make that past tense – LOVED. Last winter construction began on a house next door, and it was loud. Really, really loud. All the time. Sitting outside was not just unpleasant; it was unbearable. Even indoors, the noise was sometimes so obnoxious that we had to turn on the A/C just to drown it out. Finally, the new house – with its ridiculous baroque ornamentation – was finished. Peace at last. I managed to enjoy a few weekends of outdoor noshing and reading before we left for the States in June.

Upon returning to Vientiane in early August, we were shocked and dismayed to discover the new house now seems to operate a woodworking business. From about 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. Every. Single. Day.

Some days, when I am exhausted from school or cranky from all the rain or frustrated by a cultural impasse and all I want in the whole world is some tranquility, that sound … that incessant SOUND … can trigger the mother of all meltdowns. My nerves are shot. My eyes ache from holding back the tears. My shoulders hunch up around my ears. If I knew any state secrets, I would spill them. Just make it stop.