Seriously... We moved into the middle one of three townhouses mid-June last year. Perfect location; quiet leafy street, close enough to walk to shops, the train station and an array of some of Melbourne's best cafes and restaurants. Freeway not too far, really the choicest of many on offer at the time we were looking. The bonus was the two large empty blocks on both sides - and truth be told, what swayed us to choose this one.

I have a nice big bedroom facing directly East (and a walk-in closet but that's a story for another time). I also have a window taking up most of the East-facing wall. As you know all know by now, I have become a nocturnal animal, usually waking around midnight most nights and doing some writing and chatting on here.

As some of you might recall also, prior to moving back to the city we lived down on the coast, on the side of the largest hill in the area with uninterrupted views of the bay and the ships passing back and forth in and out of Port. Our location was the closest point from the shipping channel to shore, so these magnificent container ships and majestic cruise liners were very close and if one stood at the end of the pier, you could make out faces and hands waving.

So it was an adjustment, leaving that natural beauty behind and moving back to the 'burbs. But I had my window see and where I was once seeing spectacular sunsets over the bay, I was now seeing glorious evening skies and sunrises over low rooftops and the odd few trees scattered about.

One early morning, a strange noise woke all of us. It sounded like something very large had crashed into something then there was the noise a car makes when the rear tyres are stuck in mud? Only very loud - so loud most neighbours at our end of the street rushed out in varied night-time attire. Turns out a big dump truck on the west side of our block crashed through the chain-link fence, got stuck in the boggy soil and was trying its damnedest to get unstuck. Half the street and those unlucky cars parked nearby ended up covered in globs of turf-churned soil, as the driver, oblivious to the wreckage, continued to floor the accelerator. Then the back wheels, firmly spinning on the pavement caused it to collapse and sink into the narrow service tunnel, essentially making the truck to come to a dead stop; front wheels stuck in deep mud channels and back wheels sunk below street level.

All that was sorted out during the day, with a big tow truck and a lot of yelling . We thought it was just a truck realising it couldn't fit around the corner of the street - as it narrowed significantly - so the driver had decided to make the turn which resulted in the early morning disaster?

The day after, our life changed. At about 6.00am, I heard noises and truck sounds again... Not on my side of the house but I peered through the bathroom window and my worst fears were confirmed. The block next door was being 'developed'. I wandered over later in the day and asked a burly bloke in a flannel shirt and one of those fluoro vests what was going on and was told three townhouses were going to be constructed there. Hmmm...

For the next two months, poor mum - whose room faced that side of the house - had to wake at 6.00am every day, as an assortment of diggers, dump trucks, cement mixers and what-not cleared the block and started construction. I could hear some noise from my room but it was bearable, with my door shut.

All this sounds boring, I know. So what right? Builders build all the time, big deal.

Came the day though, almost four months ago now and only a month after they started on the first block, that the block on my side began swarming with vehicles. A whole different story see, because I keep my windows wide open - a habit of a lifetime, whatever the season - and yeah I sit at my desk and write? Here's where I am, this is our 'townhouse' and my window (on the brick side) before the build...

And here are some of the things I have had to endure, a mere few metres away from me:

Butt-cracks... Seriously, get a belt, get extra-long vests, pants that fit, do what my son calls the "tub and tuck", do something! 7.00am taking a sip of coffee and seeing half a bare arse - not a very pleasant way to greet the new dawn, really. So I have become quite a connoisseur in the meantime. I have seen young ones and old ones, fat ones and skinny ones, hairy ones (ugh bottom of list) and pale white ones. I have seen so many that when we drive down the street and one of the boys spot someone bending over, I go "Meh, seen that version."

Music... How much doof doof can a mind endure? Well apparently just enough, because you get a break - the day before you go insane - as the middle-aged Greek brickies arrive and yeah... Greek music blares. Between the breaks - when the group stop and consult the plans, seeing as the first garage wall didn't quite meet its neighbour the way it was supposed to, or the wrong colour bricks - those destined for the townhouse itself - were used to build the interior of the garage there was music of another kind. Ever heard six middle-aged Greeks arguing? It sounds like the scene from some GreekTragedy play - they have a tendency to talk over each other and the more they do, the higher the volume? Add to this the most colourful language and a whole heap of gesticulating and yeah, neither a pretty sight nor sound. I mean I even resorted to headphones and it still came through?

Conversations... I now know what blokes talk about when they are talking between themselves and no women are present and they think no one can hear them. Morons! You are a few metres away, on the second storey and my windows are wide open?

So ladies, some insights: You get talked about. Yep. And if you indulged in some nocturnal activities, you get talked about a lot. I know what you do, I know what you're best at doing and by God, I know how you compare with the previous ones... Oh and your husband? I'd seriously divorce him, like right now! He wasn't "out with the boys" he was "screwing this chick" he met on his lunch-break when he went to get some gyros. Two of your boyfriends are serial cheaters. They're going to marry you eventually... but not until they've had their "good time" apparently. And if you're involved with the tall dark-haired dude... I think he is conflicted? Only because I heard him talking to someone on his mobile called John? Interesting conversation that one, especially the endearment at the end... which I cannot repeat here. That was straight after he talked with you, and organised to meet up for dinner. John was the 'afters' if you get the drift?

Language... Strange what blokes consider interesting conversations. Yeah, football okay. Soccer too, I get it. But all that other random crap? Seriously. One particular 'conversation', I had to stop everything and just count the number of times the 'f' word was used... gave up at around 50 or so? Noun, verb, adjective, I think pronoun and some other technical language thingies. When you hear "The fn f didn't fn say he effed off so I fn had to fnfind the f and I effed him off after I fn called him a f...er..." Yeah. Hear enough of this - I think the word may have crept into some of my writing? It's certainly in my head now, good and proper. As are the other words? English has changed forever for me after four months on a diet consisting of every expletive I know - and quite a few new ones mind you. Ah, the evolving English language at its finest!

Noise... I don't know how your wives/partners/girlfriends/mothers put up with you. You use all this excruciatingly loud electrical equipment - nail guns, circular saws, those thingies that pound concrete - and you talk over them? Then you stop using them but your voices remain at the same pitch? Do you not have volume control? I have images of you walking in the front door and yelling "I'm home" and everyone present immediately lifting their hands and covering their ears? And the tools themselves... Why do they have to make so much noise? We've been to the moon. Elon's successfully landed rockets on little remote-controlled landing pads in the middle of the ocean. I watched one such landing. Your tools are way louder damn it! Can't one of you invent something less ear-piercing? You could retire a zillionaire, and people like me would light candles for you!

There's more, so much more I could write a book. But my head hurts. I think my ears bled some days ago. And I hate you, I hate you because you took four months of my life and turned them into living hell and this hell is likely to continue for at least this long again. And I have to write and talk to people and snatch some sleep during all that. I sleep a few hours during the day you idiots, and you took that away from me! But I hate you more because of this one thing: You took away my sunrises and most of my stars you bastards! I look out of my window now and all I see is black. No twinkles. No Venus. And in a few hours, I won't see the pinks and pale yellows that heralded dawn. Hell I won't see the sun for another two hours...

You built this monstrous townhouse right opposite me. My daytime view is a continuous brick wall with some obscured bathroom and toilet windows. That's only because our townhouse was built first and you weren't allowed to put bedrooms facing me haha. Or not so funny since the toilet is right smack opposite me? So you better keep that window tightly shut future tenants. This is a warning.