Let the changeout begin
My concentration was on the work involved in requiring several dozen sewing-machine case containers. All repurposed to hold foodstuffs, and packed pele-mele on the back of a truck, beside the residence (where I worked thirty-plus years ago). Obviously, something didn’t make sense here, and the ringing of the telephone removed me from a deep sleep.
The phone ringing; right. On the other side of the door, with at least one of the four tones already used, before everything fell into voicemail. I ran. I was too late. Oh well, it would have been that group that calls each morning to tell me about unusual charges against my credit card (the one I don’t actually have). No matter. I should get up and greet the day. And then, the phone rang again.
Our contractor, double-checking before driving all the way out from town to open the door for the plumber who should be here “any minute now”. Guess that’s a sign that the day will be moving at a more rapid pace than usual. I can get dressed and put my eyedrop dose “in the palpebral fissure” with remarkable speed. Thank you, Wiki, for that bit of medical trivia.
It was actually more like five minutes, but the plumber’s service truck arrived and in came the two lads with more tools than I would have ever estimated necessary. Today, we change the lower bathroom into something better.
First up, the vanity, with new taps. A piece of cake for those with the knowledge and the tools. I put my trust in their skills, fully cognizant that I would have started filling my indoor pool, left to my own devices. They got the job done, without my observation.
Mid-afternoon, I answered a few more questions, and then they were off to do the shower install. I’ll get back to this, when I know more.
