Every day. Nearly. Every. Damn. Day. Maybe twice a day. Shooting rigidly awake from blissful sleep into the literal warzone of bleating death engines. My complex is surrounded sometimes by several dudes just running their nozzles over the same already clean patch of grass. It sends my dog into a mania. It sends me into a depression. Running a commercial gas-powered leaf blower for one hour is roughly equivalent in air pollution to driving 1,000 miles in a car. They are changing more than the climate up here. Breathing in that sweet, sweet exhaust. I pay exorbitant bills to be in my own personal sound torture box. I try to walk it off but it is just blowers everywhere no matter where I try to hide. This ban could not come soon enough.

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