Here's a picture of the ceiling now.

Yesterday, Mikaela came home first after a day of work, only to find that a few concrete bits surrounding the hole in our bathroom ceiling had dropped and smashed into the bath-tub and floor. She called the superintendent in charge of the renovations in our neighbourhood who promised the guy who was to fix the ceiling would come around the day after and fix it in the morning. He did!

That plaster will take some time to heal, and after that they'll fix it up nicely and finish it all off by painting the entire bathroom ceiling. Finally! My mother, who works as a cleaner/superintendent used no fair words when sizing them up: "Of course they'll bloody well better fix your bathroom ceiling! And mind you, if they'd come into your apartment without asking your permission first they'd be breaking the law, bloody hell."

Whenever I feel I'm not stubborn enough, or whenever I feel I'm not strong enough to follow through a fight in any form, I often think of my mother. What'd she do? She would never give up. Ever. If she were an animal, she'd be a badger. Hang on, to her opponents she's most likely to come across like this.