The percussive sound of a jackhammer tearing up the street outside of his bedroom woke Alex up from his deep slumber. He looked at the clock on his nightstand. It was 1:37 in the afternoon and Alex was only halfway through his daily afternoon nap.
He got out of his bed, put on his robe and slippers, and headed downstairs to the kitchen, where his granddaughter was preparing a snack for when her kids got home from school in about an hour. “Hi, Pop Pop,” she said cheerily. “You’re up early from your nap.”
“How can I nap with all that racket going on outside,” he said grumpily. “What are they doing out there?”
“The public works department is repairing some of the old sewer pipes in the area,” Andrea responded. “It’s supposed to take about a week.”
“That’s just great,” Alex grumbled. “Got any Advil? That damn jackhammering is giving me a splitting headache.”
“Sure,” Andrea said, opening up one of the kitchen cabinets where she kept some household medical supplies. “How many do you want?”
“Just give me the goddam bottle and a glass of water,” Alex snapped.
Andrea handed him the Advil bottle and a glass of cold water. “You know, Pop Pop,” she said, somewhat tentatively, “maybe you should go visit Adam this week until the street work is done. I can give him a call and have him come pick you up. It will be good for you to have a change of scenery and to spend some time with your grandson and his kids.”
“No way,” Alex said. “Those little rugrats of his are more annoying than that goddam jackhammer out there. And his wife is a shrew. Besides,” he added, “it’s a three hour drive out to his place in the middle of nowhere. And you know my back can’t handle three hours sitting in a goddam car.”
“Fine,” Andrea said, knowing that she was in for another wonderful week of constant complaining from her grandfather. She would have preferred the peace and quiet of the jackhammer.
Written for today’s one-word prompt, “percussive.”