all attempts to reach the building suppliers by telephone have failed, they have taken their device off the hook. They are open for business customers only, and that is that. No time for questions.
The wife has a business permit. And to finish the work on the upstairs bathroom mortar is needed.
Drive through the deserted town, there is hardly any traffic and practically nobody on the sidewalks. At the big store, join the queue. Name and address are taken. The wife has turned into the boss, the one running everything. She seems to enjoy the deception, coming here with her husband in her employment to collect some urgently needed supplies.
Go out to the back of the store, three bags full of mortar, a mortarboard, and an electric light switch
That is all, and for the trouble it all took to get those few things, not a lot of money.
Later on carry the three forty-kilo sacks up to the bathroom in the second floor. One at a time.
The back pain has gone, and that is something to celebrate.
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