They cut the lawns on Monday morning, perhaps other times during the week depending on whether or not it rains while they attempt to do the work.
If I’m home, someone will complain about the lawn crew adamantly in his own way. That being is my cat, Harry. He will jump up on my bed and sleep, or go under it if the lawn personnel are nearby.
In my observations with cats in my life, which wasn’t all that much before Harry came into it, cats simply don’t like noise. Yet it’s something to see a middle aged cat cower like an infant and display a sudden need for protection and attention.