shower saga

So while my face was undergoing reconstruction, so was my bathroom. Those people who are uninterested in construction may skip this post.

      The shower was either burning or cold. The new super kindly explained to me that the temperature changed according to whether anyone else was flushing toilets in the building, and I less kindly explained to him that as I had lived in the building since before he was born (47 years), I could tell the difference. As could my frequent houseguests.

He sent real plumbers, having let the handyman go, thank goodness, as he was not that handy. They plasticked up the hole so that the immediately arriving houseguest (about which visit more later) would be able to use the shower. Also me, of course.

Then the tile guy, another pro, came and put in actual tile. 

And then the painter, another pro, came to plaster the gaping hole in the ceiling where Toby's tub had overflowed (over and over) and paint the entire bathroom. All of those contracted appeared to be, like the super, of Eastern European origin. I have heard that this group has taken over building maintenance from the Puerto Riquenos, who have held these posts for three generations that I know of. 

   And herewith the reveal. All set for Hannah and family arriving in a couple days!