Built-in Bliss

The built-in bookcase under our master bathroom window is now complete!

After much planning and many drawings, we finally (with the expert assistance of our neighbor Ken) cut all the pieces for the bookcase last weekend.

This weekend, Darwin nail-gunned it together and caulked it up nice and pretty, and then I primed and painted it. You can admit it - it's the prettiest bookcase you've ever seen, right?



We also painted a second and third coat on the bathroom floor:



And cut, primed and painted the baseboards (Benjamin Moore Glacier White, left, primer on the right):



We're getting so close I can taste it!

Recipe for Painted Walls

2 scrapers
1/2 can of Bondo
Palm sander
6 sheets green extra-strong sandpaper from 3M
9 tubes of caulk
2 3/4-inch nap rollers
2 cans of primer
1 can of paint, Benjamin Moore "Mauve Desert"

Use scrapers to remove loose paint. Bondo the many cracks and nail holes, taking breaks between each smelly, awful batch to gasp for fresh air in the hallway. After it's all dry and the scraping is all done (this will take approximately three eternities), sand with palm sander, using extra-strong green sandpaper.

Sweep floor and wipe down walls. Prime first coat with a worn-out old roller that you will later realize is wasting time and must be trashed. Now you will see the multitude of cracks between the beaded boards. When it dries, sand and half-heartedly wipe down again.

Apply 9 tubes of caulk to said cracks until finger gets a strawberry and/or gets stuck with a splinter and bleeds on the wall. This will take approximately one eternity.

Give the caulk time to dry - a day, a week, a year, whatever works for you. Apply second, much thicker coat of primer with new 3/4-inch nap roller. Rolling sideways helps get the paint in the grooves of the horizontal beadboard.

Forego the sanding because you are so tired of looking at and touching sandpaper and your fingers feel worn down to nubs. Realize that the one gallon of paint the paint store lady recommended will not make it through two coats of paint. Decide to paint the first coat on thick, so maybe you'll only have to touch up a few spots.

Hesitate before painting because the newly caulked and primed walls look so fresh and bright white it seems a shame to cover them. Paint anyway, while listening to Backtrax '90s on the busted-up radio/cassette player you've had since second grade. Argue with spouse over whether paint gets darker or lighter when dry. As the paint dries darker, smugly point out that you were right.

Paint your initials on the wall to make up.



When the painting is finished, stand back and see that it is darker than you expected and grayer and purpler. But it will do because you are tired of thinking about it, and it will look better once the baseboards are installed, and it will look better once the trim is painted Glacier White, and it will mostly be covered with massive times-three shower curtains and sinks and towel racks and medicine cabinets.

And the final step: Show off to neighbors and blog readers.



More painting photos

Kant Leak This

Yesterday after his deer-shooting fiesta, Darwin came home and tore out the plywood floor in the half bathroom. As I mentioned yesterday, we discovered that water from the perpetually leaking toilet was running into a crack between two pieces of plywood and pooling underneath between the plywood floor and what we thought was the original wood floor.

We realized this while I was brushing my teeth at the sink. Darwin came in and saw a wet spot on the floor. Since our three mischievous animals were hovering around, we thought one of them must have peed. But then when I stepped back, another wet spot appeared. I thought I must have water on my slippers, but they were dry.

I set my foot down near the wet spots, and to my surprise, water bubbled up through what, on closer inspection, were nail holes.

Then I had a general freak-out attack at the thought of all that water ruining the wood floors we were planning to restore.

But that night when Darwin tore out the plywood he discovered not tongue and groove original boards underneath but another layer of plywood. Oh geez.



Of course, this is good news and bad. Good: no wet boards. Bad: no boards at all.

We still think they're underneath THAT layer of plywood, though. And it's actually kinda good to know we don't have to set to work on that bathroom when we're not even finished with the other.

As for the leaky toilet, that's still a mystery. Darwin has replaced the wax ring three times now - this latest time with a KANT-LEAK Jumbo. Ha.

But now he thinks the water is leaking from the tank itself. That would explain why it still leaked even after the valve was shut off, but it doesn't explain why all the water appears to be in front of the toilet.

It would be just terrific if we could have the plumbers take a look at it when they come to redo our other bathroom. So it would be killer awesome if we could just finish the ever-loving painting and trim-installing, so we can schedule the plumbers' visit.

Primed and Ready, Part Deux

I primed the rest of the bathroom this weekend (with no help from Darwin, thanks a lot honey), so that means no more scraping! Heeheeeheeeeeeee, I'm giddy because I'm so very sick of scraping that bathroom and getting covered head to toe in lead paint dust. If I die an early death of lead poisoning, you'll know why.



Darwin started caulking the big cracks between the beadboard (an undertaking John from The Devil Queen is also enduring). He only did this out of guilt because he went hunting on Saturday instead of helping me and went to his singing on Sunday instead of helping me and took off work today to go hunting instead of fixing the toilet in the half bath, which we knew was leaking but discovered only this morning had filled up the space between the old wood floor and the plywood on top with water, so that it squished up through the nail holes with every step.

But I'm not bitter. No, I don't mind at all that our wood floor - the one we were planning to restore - is now soaking in toilet water. I'm totally fine with that. Go on honey, playing me-tough-hunter-gatherer-man is way more important.

At least the caulking looks good. It makes the wall look about 1 million times better and will hopefully keep out drafts and make our bathroom cozier.

You can see the "before" on the left and "after" on the right in this pic:

Whiny Selfish Lady

This is my crude drawing of the bookshelf we're planning to build in the space under the bathroom window. There's already a cut-out in the wall from where the previous owners moved up the window to accommodate their bathtub. The bookshelf will indent into the wall a few inches, and we're framing it out in 1x6 trim to match the window.



Darwin bought the materials for it earlier in the week, but still, I'm getting concerned again about our bathroom progress. All we got done last weekend was a little scraping and sanding. This weekend Darwin wants to hunt on Saturday (this is the last week of deer season, thank goodness) and may have to go to a "singin'" on Sunday.

He also wants to spend every spare moment working on his project truck, which has been in progress for the duration of our marriage (4.5 years). I think he feels about it the way I feel about the bathroom: it’s been so long, and we’re so close!

I know I should be understanding; these are his hobbies, and he allegedly enjoys them. All work and no play makes Darwin a dull boy.

Besides, he hasn't hunted that much - not nearly enough to justify the hunting club fee, but whatever - and he hasn't had many singing engagements lately - fall and winter are their slow seasons.

And I'm better about it now than I used to be. He has so many hobbies and so many people clamoring for his time that I felt a little neglected. Finally I just gave up the moping and developed a million hobbies of my own – dollmaking (since abandoned), collecting dolls (also abandoned except for the occasional moment of weakness), the dollhouse (on hiatus), scrapbooking, blogging, writing, selling clothes on eBay, designing and running my mom’s online costume store, ballroom dancing, and of course, shopping, shopping, shopping.

So now I’m busy, he’s busy, and our work schedules are at odds half the time. Even when we can spend weeknights together, it’s only for a couple of hours before he has to retire early. That means the weekends are all we’ve got; we have to cram in time together, time with friends, time with family, and work on the house.

That’s why I get a little peevish when something else interferes with the weekends, especially something unexpected.

Like when Darwin’s dad called to tell him about the singing on Sunday. It’s the worst kind, the dreaded “all day singing.” The name says it all. It requires Darwin to leave the house at 9 a.m., attend the morning service and sing a few songs, stay for lunch, then sing a few sets after lunch. Some churches are faster than others – it depends on how many of the church’s attendees want to get up and sing their own “specials” – but it will typically last until 3 p.m., after which Darwin has to help load up the group’s equipment and then drive an hour or more back home.

And there’s pretty much a zero percent chance he’ll eagerly shuck his church clothes, dive into old clothes and throw himself into working on the bathroom. It’ll be 4 p.m. or later; it will be getting dark outside. We’ll want dinner in a couple of hours. Then we’ll want TV time.

Another day, another weekend will pass with little to no progress, and the bathroom’s completion will move one more week later into the fuzzy future.

So such phone calls about singings leave us both in an awkward position. I want to say, “If you go to that singing, I will kill you with a waffle iron!” But I don’t want to be the nag; he should have the right to make his own decisions.

He knows how much I want him to say he can’t make it this weekend, but he knows, too, how much his dad wants him to say yes. Half the reason – maybe more than half – he is still in this group is because his dad wants him to be. His dad hasn’t yet recovered from him moving out of their house to marry me.

So poor Darwin is stuck. Either choice will make someone unhappy. I usually vote for making me happy, but I can see why it wouldn’t be so simple for him.

In this case, he didn’t respond at all. He didn’t say yes or no. He changed the subject to hunting, something he is already doing with his dad this weekend.

So I don’t know yet whether we’ll be working on the bathroom this weekend or if I’ll be sulking at home, priming by myself or trying to figure out how to build a bookshelf.

Primed and Ready

What a cliche, right? Forgive me - we just finished the February issue of the magazine I work for, and I'm creative-headlined out.

Also, it applies in a very literal way. We got so much stuff done this weekend that I feel like a different blogger! Where's that lazy girl and her lethargic husband?

Saturday we worked on Millie's fence, and with the help of our friends/neighbors, got all the posts set and the relevant part of the old fence taken down.

Sunday we holed up in the master bath and scraped until our hands were sore. Also, Darwin installed those two boards he cut a while back to fill the holes from a couple of old termitey spots in the beadboard.

Monday Darwin planned to leave for some manly wilderness time at 1:45, so we got started on the bathroom early. I quickly determined that it might-just-might be possible to prime the sink/toilet wall (the largest uninterrupted wall) that day. With that goal in mind, I scraped and sanded and Bondo'ed nail holes with an unusual vigor.

Oh yeah, and Darwin helped, too.

Actually, we both worked hard, though Darwin as usual tried to redo half the stuff I did. I finally said, "It doesn't have to be perfect. If you're going to redo everything I do, I'll just go sit on the couch. There's no point in me working my ass off if you're just going to redo everything."

For once, he didn't argue back with some snarky comment about the quality of my work. He just blinked at me and said, "Okay" and tried not to do it again.

Like I said, who WERE these people?

Finally, the magic moment came. After washing down the very dusty walls, we applied primer to roller, roller to wall. Of course, it wasn't easy. Beadboard - especially old, imperfect beadboard - is a real pain to paint. Darwin showed me the technique he'd already learned on the practice section a few weeks ago - heavily load up the roller with primer, paint sideways, press hard to get the paint into the grooves.

Then he had to leave, and I finished the wall myself. I even cleaned everything up without his help.

Seeing that beautiful smooth white wall was reward enough for my stinging hands and hair full of lead paint dust. The best part was all the little imperfections in the beadboard - where I hadn't scraped quite thoroughly enough - didn't even show once it was all primed. I'm so freaking happy right now. The bathroom is halfway primed, and the other half just needs to be scraped a little more and sanded before it will be ready, too.



Oh, and I almost forgot the good news! We heard from the plumber about that estimate. Drumroll please .... $700 maximum, but probably more like $500-600! I'm fully anticipating $700, of course, but still - that's cheaper than I was imagining. I'm thrilled, Darwin's pleased, and they're hired!

They are busy until the end of January, but that's fine because that gives us time to get everything ready. All we have to do to prepare is finish priming and painting the walls, patch the ceiling, paint the ceiling, and paint another coat on the floor. That's all easy stuff. We've drywalled and painted plenty of times before. There's nothing scary looming over us anymore!

So life is good right now. Oh wait, except I still don't know what color to paint the walls. I spent yesterday afternoon playing around with the Benjamin Moore Color Viewer, but sometimes I hate that thing. Most colors show up looking nothing like their actual selves - red is always pink or pale orange, for example.

Then I went back and reread Fixer Upper's post about bathroom color scheming and noted Beth's comment, "we tend to paint the bathroom whichever color is most flattering to our skin tones so that we don’t spend the mornings depressed."

So I started thinking about what colors look best on me. What Not to Wear tells me "emerald" is a good color for people with coloring like mine (brown hair, green eyes, pinkish skin tone), so that was my first thought. Then I went a little crazy. I cut out a picture of my overly pink-cheeked head from a New Year's Eve photo and pasted it on top of a variety of colors. This is what happens when Photoshop falls into the hands of the untrained:



Purple and green were my favorites, which is unsurprising considering those are the colors I wear most often in makeup. Red also looked okay. Beige, yellow and orange were downright revolting on me.

I love "emerald" as a clothing option, but the thought of applying it to my bathroom walls kinda freaks me out. I'm used to decorating in earthier tones. Bold but subdued - grounded might be the right word.

I plan to paint our adjoining master bedroom a mauvey-gray color, so maybe a different shade of purple would look nice in the bathroom. Not too dark or bold.

I'm being more cautious than I would normally because this paint will need to last a long time. Painting behind clawfoot tubs and wall-hung sinks is no easy feat. I don't need to get the bathroom done and then hate it five minutes later.

So what do you think? Is emerald too scary? Is plum too ... purple? Or should I stick with the sage green I considered back in July?

I know I should follow Fixer Upper's example and choose a shower curtain first, then select a paint color from it. But I don't want to leap into that purchase either. I haven't found the exactly perfect shower curtain, and I have a clear liner that will do indefinitely.

And this is no time for indecision! We're almost there!

Pipe, Wire & the American Way

A plumber is coming to our house this week for an estimate, and I have Millie to thank for it.

For most of our bathroom project's long and varied life, Darwin has been opposed to hiring a plumber. We have copper pipe, but he studied the plumbers while they fixed a leak this summer, and he is convinced he can do the switcheroo (tub and toilet will need to change places) himself.

I'm convinced of that, too, but what I'm a little less certain about is how long it will take him to do it. Today marks 17 months since my first post about bathroom demolition. As I've said ad nauseum, I'm ready for this to be done. My goal is Valentine's Day this year - just one month away - and if it's possible for someone to spontaneously combust, missing that deadline and dragging this project on for more months and years might just be cause enough for my head to catch on fire.

Enter Miss Millie. The house training thing is not going so well. We read all the comments about crate training, we started Tivo'ing The Dog Whisperer, and I researched house training online. But nothing I've read seems to address what you do if you have to leave your pet alone for at least 9 hours at a time on some days. I thought we could have our neighbor's child walk Millie during the day, but then we met, and our hyper girl was a bit much for her.

The one suggestion that seems feasible for the times we ARE home is to keep Millie with us at all times inside the house, so we can catch her in the act if she starts to poop on the floor (she rarely pees in the house). This morning Darwin had just brought her inside from a walk when he caught her getting ready to poop on the dining room carpet. He said, "No, no, no!" and that girl scurried away to the back door! He took her out, and she pooped outside.

Hmmm, she apparently knows where she's supposed to go, but she doesn't seem that interested in doing it when she's out there. I'll wait for AGES for her to poop, and she won't do it. She's too involved in sniffing out and digging up earthworms, diving after birds, or trying to drag me toward the neighbors' yard (and yellow lab).

Also, she has tons of energy and just really adores being outside. She'll sit at the window and whine, or even go to the door and whine, and I'll think she needs to do her business. So I take her out, and nope - she just wants to run and sniff.

It's pretty obvious to us that Millie needs a fence. When we'll be gone for long hours, we can leave her outside, where she'll have grass on which to poop, a little house in which to rest, and best of all - room to run, run, run. Having a fence will also be handy when we have kids one day to keep them from dashing off into traffic.

So we formulated a plan to build our own fence in the side yard made of roll wire and round posts to match the existing old, incomplete fence. The cool thing about this type of fence compared to chain link is it looks more old-fashioned - like a farm fence - and it blends into the background better than either chain link or a tall wood fence.

The fence will begin at the back corner of the house, connect with the old fence running parallel to the house, and then come back in to meet the front edge of the porch. It will encompass a roughly 500-square-foot area that includes four shade trees and lots of grass:



This weekend we measured and calculated, and Darwin bought two 100-foot rolls of wire and 18 treated posts. We'll be taking down an unnecessary and inconvenient bit of fence from the other side of the house and using its gate. We'll also be repairing some of the old fence. The total project will only cost about $230.



So what does this have to do with the bathroom? Millie's fence is a pretty urgent project, and, like everything, it will take up precious weekend time. Darwin will be working on it some this week, but it will still take up at least a full Saturday, probably a Saturday and Sunday. That sets our bathroom work back yet another week.

When Darwin flitted off to go hunting Saturday afternoon (and we had a belated Christmas gathering on Sunday), and we got exactly NOTHING done on the bathroom, I snapped.

I called Darwin and said, "Look, I'm calling a plumber to get an estimate." And for the first time, he didn't argue with me. He quite perkily said, "And then we'd only have to paint and drywall!" It's not quite that simple, but still - the plumbing is our last major project.

So the plumber will be coming one day this week. Of course, now Darwin is again saying how it's not a difficult project and he could do it and that sure is a lot of money. All before we've even heard the estimate.

I am usually the first to say, "eeek, can't we do that ourselves?" And I know I just posted about saving money. But some things are just worth it. Our time is worth something, too. And having something complete would do wonders for us both. I doubt hiring a plumber is something we would regret while we soaked in a delicioiusly hot bath or brushed our teeth at our new sink, or you know, did other things on our toilet.

So for now I'm voting pro-plumber, if the price is at all reasonable.

And I'm excited about the fence. I can't wait to chase Millie around inside it.

New pictures of Millie!

We Got Light!

It's like the shine on your shoes,
or hearing a blues that's great.
Makes you relax,
like a big tax rebate!
We got light!

Okay, so maybe those aren't the actual lyrics, but I'll take any excuse to squeeze in a song from Annie. In fact, I think we might name a child Annie one day. Sure, Darwin's mom's name is Annie, but we all know who the real namesake would be!

Sorry, I'm feeling a little delirious today just thinking about that beautiful moment when Darwin flipped the new switch, and the light came on in the bathroom. Light, blessed light!



The new outlets also work!



Now that the wiring is done, we can close up the gaps in the beadboard, finish the drywall, and have light to scrape and sand and paint to our hearts' content. Hurray!

And Benny Goodman's got swing.
Bing is a king, by far.
Mutt has got Jeff,
and Eleanor, F.D.R.!
We got light!

More wiring photos

It Takes a Village

As members of the unofficial Work Day Club of Eutaw, we've helped our neighbors on several occasions. This weekend we cashed in some of our help-out bucks to get a jumpstart on the bathroom.

It all started on Saturday when we took Millie for a walk around the block. We ran into Deirdre, who was helping tear out more plaster at Denise's house, and then we visited a while with Ken and his son, who were working on a truck. We told them about the work we'd recently begun on the bathroom walls - scraping off the flaky top layer of paint to get a smoother surface for painting.

A couple of hours later Deirdre showed up, scraper in hand. She promptly climbed on a ladder and joined me in scraping the walls. We scraped like mad in short bursts, then stopped to rest and gab, then scraped again. In this way, the work (and the lead paint dust) flew.

Then she and Darwin took two wall boards over to Ken and used his woodworking tools to shave a little indention into the backs, so they would fit against a stud.

For some reason Deirdre and Ken volunteered to help us begin wiring the bathroom the next day. We had to leave for a New Year's Eve ball by 4 p.m., so it was an ambitious project.

The bathroom's power was feeding off the guest room light, so first Ken disconnected that and installed a refurbished antique light fixture I bought on eBay about two centuries ago. Meanwhile, Darwin disconnected the light in the bathroom.

Then Darwin headed for the attic and ran a new wire from the breaker box to the bathroom, where he installed a junction box to feed one wire to the light switches and one to the outlets.

Of course, some other finagling had to happen. Holes had to be drilled, wires fished and plans made. Deirdre brought over their massively long drill bit to drill down through the sill in the top of the bathroom wall, and that's when Ken found the happy little rat skeleton.



In the midst of all this, Deirdre cooked us lunch! Can you ask for better friends than these?

After lunch we ran into further problems. One, we had no large plastic wingnut thingies. Two, when they drilled a hole in the future closet ceiling to feed the wire for that light, they discovered that the ceiling had been lowered from 12 feet to 10, and the drill bit wouldn't reach through the 2-foot gap. Three, Darwin was a little confused about how to wire the three-switch box.

Finally we gave up for the day with the bathroom wiring not finished and not connected to the breaker box. But when they turned the power back on, half the outlets in the kitchen and an outlet in the guest room wouldn't work.

While I showered and beautified myself, Darwin tried to figure out the problem. Finally, he switched some wires around in the guest room light fixture, and that did the trick.

But by then, it was already 4 p.m. We finished getting ready in a frenzy, loaded up Millie in the car (she was spending the night with her grandparents) and flew toward town. We had to call my mom and ask her to meet us in town, so we wouldn't be late. She generously agreed but threatened me with a "life lesson" lecture.

Eventually, we made it to our New Year's ball feeling frazzled but looking snazzy.

Before:	After:

We drank champagne, danced the rumba and foxtrot, kissed at midnight, laughed a lot, and crashed by 1:40 at a nearby hotel.

On the way home the next day, we stopped by Lowe's (fortunately open on New Year's Day) and got the larger wingnuts. The rest of the way home, I demanded Darwin explain electrical wiring to me and attempted to draw diagrams to figure out the three-switch problem.

We had resolved nothing by the time we got home except that we have terrible communication skills. And that it's hard to draw a wiring diagram with a dog sitting on your lap.

Fortunately, our neighbor Doug, an actual electrician, was home. Darwin called to ask his advice on the three-switch situation, and Doug generously offered to pop on over and check things out.

He figured the problem out in a flash (we needed a fourth wire directly from the junction box into the three-switch box) and demonstrated how to connect the switches with jumper wires.

After he left, we worked by lamplight until dinner time. Darwin finished the wiring, while I scraped more paint. Oh, and he also hung the second refurbished antique light fixture in the hall to match the one we replaced in November.

All that's left to do with the wiring is deal with the closet light, hang the light fixtures, and hook the bathroom system to the juice. They're all pretty simple, especially since we decided to just rip out the drywall in the lowered closet ceiling. No problem, right?

As for the rest of the bathroom, I'm so sick of scraping I could scream, but we've only really got one wall left. Then we have to fill a truckload of nail holes, hit the whole thing with a palm sander, wipe down the walls, and finally, FINALLY paint.

So how it's going on our wrinkle-free timeline? See for yourself:

Figure out where to put electrical outlets in bathroom wall and cut holes.

Run new wiring to the bathroom for a closet light and two new outlets, and organize all three light switches into one switch plate.

Order faucet for bathroom sink and light fixture for over sink. (at least I've picked them out)

Move plumbing vent pipe into corner of future closet.

Visit Neighbor K to use his woodworking tools to shave a little indention into the back of a replacement piece of beadboard, so it will fit against the stud.

Install two replacement pieces of beadboard. (We were waiting to do this until the wiring was done, in case we needed access in that wall. Now we can install them.)

Cut opening for bookshelf under window and make plans.

Build little bookshelf under the window.

Patch nail holes, scrape loose paint, etc. on "rustic" beadboard walls. (Halfway done)

Buy materials for upcoming projects - wood for trim, paint for walls and trim.

Stuff our faces with Christmas goodies.

Install drywall to close up gaping hole to the attic, and re-create mini-slant in bathroom ceiling. Repair a couple spots of drywall damage on ceiling from when we removed the wall separating the two parts of the bathroom. (This is another thing we were waiting to do until after the wiring was done.)

Prime and paint ceiling.

Prime and paint the walls.

Prepaint and install baseboards, crown molding and corner molding to disguise the edges of the slanty drywall ceiling and where the beadboard meets all crookedy.

Touch up paint on moldings, and paint bookshelf and door trim.

Paint second coat on the floor.

Install light fixture over sink.

Rearrange the bathroom plumbing.

Install sink, clawfoot tub and toilet. The clawfoot tub with its maze of nickel-plated pipes will probably be an ordeal, so prepare for The First Screaming Match of 2007.

Hang vintage nickel-plated bathroom stuff like sponge holder and towel bars.

Take a bath in clawfoot tub, using yummy bath goods bought in Italy just for this occasion.

***

I'm still aiming for Valentine's Day. Hey, it's a month and a half away. The wiring was a huge project, so the plumbing is the only major obstacle left. It will happen!

Our First Carcass

You're not officially an old house renovator until you find a dead creature. We've finally joined the club.

Here for your viewing pleasure is the skeleton and clinging gray fur of a dead rat found in our bathroom wall:



And oh look, here's another rat photo. I was zooming in on this photo on my camera's LCD screen when I saw that disgusting ratty head and his horrible little claws and realized that was no animal nest but an actual dead animal. YICK!

Our friend Ken had the good fortune of extracting this creature from the sill inside the top of the wall. You know you have a good friend when he picks up a rat skeleton with his bare hand and, after realizing what that thing actually is, still stays on to help you finish wiring.

And yes, that word I just said - wiring - it's not just an illusion, folks. That really happened this weekend. Our bathroom now has three electrical outlets (as opposed to the none it had before) and a 3-switch box to control the vanity light, overhead light and closet light.

More to come on that later.

For now, I guess the rat solves one mystery. Long long ago in the early days of our residence at the 1902 Victorian, there was a mysterious, unpleasant smell in our bedroom. We could never pinpoint its cause or even the exact location it emanated from, but it seemed to be slightly stronger near our closet wall.

Our ratty comrade was found on the opposite side of the bathroom from our bedroom, so most likely he was dead and skeletonized before we ever arrived on the scene. But it's pretty clear that one of his associates must've died in our bedroom wall.

I'm so psyched to find him when we tear down the closet. You better believe I'll be wearing gloves.

All Better Now

The Gimp is back at work today. He was still in pain and walking gimpy until one day late last week when everything magically went back to normal. Almost normal, anyway. He's still stiff and gets a little whingey when he has to stand up for too long, and the doc advised him to wear one of those back brace things the Sam's Club cashiers have to wear, just in case he should have to lift a 48-pack of double-roll toilet paper.

In all seriousness, I'm absolutely thrilled that my man is straightened out. He worried me for a while there.

And it goes without saying, this set back our bathroom work. This weekend was a complete wash, and next weekend basically will be, too, because of that pesky baby Jesus. Fortunately, Darwin has the whole week after Christmas off work, and I expect some serious bathroom work to happen - injured back or no injured back!

This weekend I was sorting through old photos looking for ones I could delete (because my computer is full to the brim, and I urgently need an external hardrive), and I found a folder dated 10-15-2005. To my surprise, it's been more than a year since we took out the carpet in the half bath and started taking down the wall tile in the master bath.

Looking at the pics of the intact bathtub and tile surround and the candy cane bubble bath sitting on the ledge made me feel something unexpected - I MISSED the bathroom the way it was! Obviously, it's going to be so much better when we get it finished, but I miss the long-ago time when I could take a bath if I wanted, when my heaps of bathroom stuff were tucked quietly away in a room no guest ever saw, when I had a bleepity-bleeping master bathroom.

*Sigh*

As I told Darwin last night while he was trying to ignore me and go to sleep, I just really, really, really, really, really want this bathroom done.

Decision Time

On my bathroom timeline, I said I'd order the sink faucet and vanity light this weekend. I was thinking that we'd need the light fixture once the electrical was done, and the sink faucet would be necessary to install the sink.

But then we realized we wouldn't want to install the light fixture until the very end - after sanding, drywalling, painting, etc. - so that can wait. And Darwin pointed out that the sink plumbing isn't actually changing - we're putting it in the same spot as the old sink - and we won't need the faucet till the very end either.

So we decided to save those purchases until after Christmas, when we won't be leaking money all over the place.

But I did make decisions on the faucet and light, and for me, that alone is worth celebrating.

The faucet:
Strom Plumbing Thames widespread faucet in polished nickel

This should've been an easy decision because it's the faucet that matches our shower set, but I wouldn't be me if I didn't hem and haw endlessly. I kept hoping to find a cheaper faucet, but they don't seem to exist in polished nickel. Oh well, matching it is.

The light:
Rejuvenation Three Forks in polished nickel, probably with the Classic 2-1/4" Frosted Shade, as pictured



We had a big debate on the blog over this fixture vs. a cheaper Lowe's fixture. I've had several months to think about it, and I still like the Rejuvenation one much better, so it wins. The deal maker was the polished nickel - none of the big-box-store fixtures come in polished nickel. We're spending two arms and a leg on bathtub and sink faucets in polished nickel, so why screw it up by putting in a cheapo brushed nickel light?

Plus, I'm slightly obsessed with repro and antique lighting. It makes me happy.

So that's that. Now I need to sell like mad on eBay and make the money to pay for them.

As for our timeline, we're already slightly behind. Neighbor E wasn't able to come help with the wiring this weekend after all, so that part of the timeline is pushed back. See, this is why I gave us an extra month. Valentine's Day, here we come!

A Wrinkle-free Timeline

In elementary school, I always loved the projects that required a timeline. I liked the long line drawn across two sheets of paper taped together, with vertical lines interrupting it at intervals, tiny writing in pencil, maybe a drawing of the Mayflower, a feather pen to symbolize the signing of the Declaration of Independence, Abraham Lincoln's top hat.

I liked seeing it all laid out. Everything made so much more sense in the context of what came before and after it.

I still feel that way. When I get deep in my genealogy research, the names and dates seem to boil inside my head, rolling around, up and under each other, until I can barely remember my own name. That is until I get some paper, tape it together, and try to plot things out with a good, old-fashioned pencil.

Or when I'm editing a complex or disorganized story at work, sometimes I just have to print it and spread it out around me on the desk.

So it's no wonder this bathroom project has me flummoxed. All the different projects are floating around in my brain, knocking into one another, sending each other astray. I need to lay it out. I need a timeline.

This weekend, we took the scenic route home from a family Christmas party (yes, already with the Christmas parties) and used the time to think and strategize.

This is what we came up with for completing the bathroom in a timely and organized fashion:

Weekend, Dec. 9-10:
Figure out where to put electrical outlets in bathroom wall and cut holes.

Neighbor E (for electrician) comes over and helps Darwin run new wiring to the bathroom for a closet light and two new outlets, and organize all three light switches into one switch plate.

Order faucet for bathroom sink and light fixture for over sink. Shrivel up and almost die of Overspending Disease.

Make a miraculous recovery and party the night away at Christmas Ball, where we will show off our new rumba skillz.

Weekend, Dec. 15-16:
Move plumbing vent pipe into corner of future closet.

Visit Neighbor K to use his woodworking tools to shave a little indention into the back of a replacement piece of beadboard, so it will fit against the stud.

Install two replacement pieces of beadboard (easy peasy once the indention is made).

Begin building little bookshelf under the window.

Begin working on patching nail holes, scraping loose paint, etc. on "rustic" beadboard walls. They are just full of character!

Holiday Weekend, Dec. 23-25:
Buy materials for upcoming projects - wood for trim, paint for walls and trim.

Stuff our faces with Christmas goodies.

Week, Dec. 26-29:
Darwin will be off work, and I may be able to take a day or two, too.

Install drywall to close up gaping hole to the attic, and re-create mini-slant in bathroom ceiling. Repair a couple spots of drywall damage on ceiling from when we removed the wall separating the two parts of the bathroom.

Finish building little bookshelf under the window.

Finish patching up beadboard walls.

Prime and paint ceiling.

Prime and paint the walls.

Prepaint and install baseboards, crown molding and corner molding to disguise the edges of the slanty drywall ceiling and where the beadboard meets all crookedy.

Weekend, Dec. 30-31:
Touch up paint on moldings, and paint bookshelf and door trim.

Paint second coat on the floor.

Install light fixture over sink.

Party the night away again and show off our rumba skillz some more. Spend next day recovering.

Weekend, Jan. 6-7:
Rearrange the bathroom plumbing, or hire someone to do it. Darwin knows how to solder copper pipe and says he can do the job, but we'll see. I'm not waiting until 2008 to use my clawfoot tub, people.

Install whatever bathroom fixtures have to be installed to get the plumbing to work - don't ask me, I'm not a plumber.

Weekend, Jan. 13-14:
Install sink, clawfoot tub and toilet if they haven't already been installed. The clawfoot tub with its maze of nickel-plated pipes will probably be an ordeal, so prepare for The First Screaming Match of 2007.

Hang vintage nickel-plated bathroom stuff like sponge holder and towel bar.

Take a bath in clawfoot tub, using yummy bath goods bought in Italy just for this occasion.

Rest of 2007:
Search for the perfect piece of furniture to place between the sink and toilet. It must have a mirror, drawers and room to slide a bench/chair underneath, so I can beautify myself in comfort and style.

Buy a heated towel rack.

Search for materials (maybe cast iron brackets?) to build shelves beside the sink in the same place where they originally were.

Buy rugs and towels and either buy or make curtains and maybe a purty shower curtain to cover the plain one.

Possibly replace overhead light fixture.

Begin work on walk-in closet and hopefully finish it sometime before we die.

---

See there, it's not so hard. If we buckle down and have some good work days, we can knock this sucker out in a little over a month! Of course, knowing how household projects go, I'll add a month onto this projection. By Valentine's Day, then.

On Valentine's Day, I will take a romantic soak in my clawfoot tub ... even if it's only with myself.

Relationship Role Models

I was reading Casa Decrepit's post about how to maintain a good relationship while renovating, and it made me think about the way Darwin and I handle our projects - you know, exactly the wrong way.

In a nutshell, Ayse says we should "be a team," have a good plan, "thank each other for a hard day's work," "order take-out when you're exhausted," "don't blame each other for mistakes," and "pick your battles."

Two out of six ain't bad - oh wait, yes it is. And somehow, I think our supreme affection for eating out hardly counts toward our good relationship quotient.

The wise Ayse (absolutely no sarcasm intended) advises, "I generally don't recommend that couples have one person be the only authority and the main worker. Not only does it lead to a lot of resentment on both sides ("You're always bossing me around!" and "You don't help with any of this work!"), but it's exhausting. Share the load."

Ouch. It was like she came to our house, peeped in the window of the master bathroom reno, and took down notes like an anthropologist studying gorillas in the mist.

We're in a vicious cycle of bad renovation/relationship behavior. It goes something like this:

---

SETTING: Our house on a typical Saturday morning.

Darwin sits on the couch in his underwear, clutching the TV remote like we're in the jungle and it's his last banana.

I come in wearing my pajamas from last night and sit beside him, lean against him, hug his arm.

"Honeypie sugar dumpling head," I say in that super-mushy voice we use when we're alone. "What're we going to do today?"

"I might wash my truck!" he says, too cheerfully. He points the remote, and the Tivo says, "Blip! Blip!"

I frown, push myself up and away from him.

"I mean what-are-we-going-to-do on the house?"

He stares at the television. Doesn't answer.

"Hell-o?" I sit up straighter, lean forward, resist jabbing him in the arm.

"Hey," he says calmly, brightly.

"I asked you a question!"

He sighs, shrugs. "I don't know."

The trouble is, neither do I.

"We have to do something!" I screech and gesticulate with both hands. "Our bathroom is an empty shell! We'll never finish it if we don't work on it!"

Darwin stares at the TV some more.

He sighs, fiddles with the remote, but doesn't turn off the TV.

"Come on!" I demand. "Let's go!"

I wait a beat and then tackle him, trying to wrestle the remote away from him.

"Give me that!" I scream. "I'm stronger than you!"

Of course, that isn't true, and we both know it. Darwin laughs and fends me off with almost no effort at all.

"FINE!" I shriek, shoving myself off the couch and lifting my chin in the air. "If I leave it up to you, we'll be like your parents, living in the middle of a renovation for 15 years!"

He laughs and shakes his head. I huff off to the bedroom and yank on pants, a paint-splattered T-shirt, sneakers.

I stomp through the house, slamming doors. I peek into the living room as I pass, and Darwin pretends to be absorbed in Two Guys Garage. I dig in the drawer for the keys to the workshop, making sure he hears me rattle them.

"What are you doing?" he bellows from the couch.

Light as air, I call, "Cutting the trim with the miter saw!"

I am out the door and halfway to the workshop when he comes out the back door, buttoning his pants.

"Just wait a minute!" he yells. "Don't do anything!"

"It's just a miter saw," I toss back over my shoulder. "They look easy on TV."

Even still, I take my time turning the key in the workshop door, flipping on the light, choosing a piece of trim from the stack against the wall.

By the time I'm searching the machine for the on-off switch, Darwin is there, glaring at me.

I insist on measuring and cutting one board myself, and then he takes over. Docile now, I find something else to do in the workshop - glue shingles on my dollhouse, maybe, or scrape some paint.

When the trim is cut, I trail him inside and hand him things like the hammer or the measuring tape. I look around for something to do myself, but the demo is done, and that's my best area.

Now that the ball is rolling, Darwin keeps working like a champ. I find something to do, something with paint - that I'm good at - but as soon as Darwin gets a break, he comes over to supervise.

"You know, it would work better if you - "

"No," I interrupt. "I don't want to hear it. You do that, I do this. Go away."

"But if you did it like this - "

"No." I keep working, don't look at him. "Leave me alone."

"Fine," he says, light as air. "If you just want to keep doing it wrong, go ahead."

Then I feel like throwing the paintbrush/scraper/heatgun straight at his overgrown skull.

"I hate it when you do that," I say, very calmly. "I've told you a million and one times, and you just keep doing it."

"I can't help it you're doing it wrong," he says, full of certainty that he is entirely right and righteous.

"I'M NOT DOING IT WRONG!" I scream, throwing in a few expletives for effect, wondering briefly if the neighbors can hear. "MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!!!"

He laughs - laughs! - and strolls away, shaking his head.

And when he's gone, I start doing things the way he suggested.

Ten minutes later, he's back behind me, circling my waist with his arms. He tries to nuzzle my neck, but I clamp my jaw against my shoulder and attempt to shrug him off.

"Get off me," I say through clenched teeth.

He laughs again, and it makes me want to laugh too, but I force the corners of my mouth to be still. I refuse to relent ... for now.

When we take a break for lunch, I pretend to be mad as he makes me a sandwich. While we eat, I forget I'm mad and start talking. Then I remember and say, "I forgot I hate you." He laughs, and I smile, and everything's okay again.

Until the next Saturday, when it starts over.

---

See how many rules we broke there? We never have a plan. We often blame each other when stuff goes wrong. We are rarely a team. He considers himself the boss, while I consider him an evil dictator. He doesn't seem to mind if I don't take on half the work because he doesn't think I do it right anyway. We yell at each other. We fight every single time we work on a project. We argue over little stuff, like where to put a toilet paper holder, going round and round in circles.

But somehow, at the end of the day, we end up happy anyway. We go out to El Tenampa for dinner or join our friends at Miss Melissa's. I congratulate him repeatedly on the work he did that day. We have a glass of wine. And we are happy.

So here, for better or worse, are our rules for marriage success while renovating:

1. Fight if you want, but keep it clean - no threats of divorce or bodily harm. Swear words are perfectly acceptable.

2. Take time to make out, even if you're filthy. Dirty=naughty.

3. When your partner's on a ladder or has both arms occupied, take the opportunity to feel up his/her naughty bits. Sometimes you will get sniped at for this, but just giggle; he/she will forgive you.

4. When one partner can’t get motivated to work, start working without him/her. He/she will come sniffing around before you know it. If not, he/she is not really in the old house business.

5. Don’t criticize your partner or order him/her about. It makes him/her less eager to work next time. (We have both learned this lesson. Wait, no we haven’t, but we should’ve.)

6. Act like a baby if you want, but make sure you don't mind being treated like one.

7. Help your friends with their projects, and invite them over to help with yours. It’s harder to fight with each other when you have witnesses.

8. Talk dreamily about the future – how the project will make your life better when it’s finished.

9. Set project timelines that seem ridiculously too long, or set none at all. That way no one gets disappointed, and no one gets blamed.

10. Take plenty of time to rest, relax and enjoy other hobbies. Don't try to "keep up with the Joneses" - in this case, the other housebloggers who worker harder and faster than you.

11. Call each other absolutely ridiculous pet names, but please don't get offended if your partner accidentally calls you "poo head."

12. Laugh a lot. When someone messes up, laugh. When something goes wrong, laugh. When someone gets hurt, don’t laugh, you sadist!

and our personal favorite,

13. The promise of Mexican food at the end of the day keeps everyone happy.

Toilet Siesta

During the Halloween Party, the toilet in our hall bathroom starting leaking. That makes two toilets out of commission, one to go. I sincerely hope Darwin fixes the hall toilet before we have to find out what it was really like to live at the turn of the century. We're pinning a lot of hopes on that one remaining toilet.

Of course, today when he went to the local hardware store to get a new wax ring, the store was closed. So silly of us. Today's Thursday, the day when every business and government office in Eutaw takes a little breather in the afternoon. I don't know who started that custom or why, but it's really getting on my nerves.

We Finally Have a Sink

The sink question has been heavy on my mind this week because we need to decide that before we can figure out where to put the electrical outlets in the bathroom.

If you read this blog, you know it's been a long saga. First I wanted a pedestal sink. Then I wanted a vessel sink. Then my heart was set on an antique marble wall-hung sink supported by cast iron brackets. Debates raged on this site, in my house, and in my head.

Then yesterday I had to drive to Huntsville to attend a press conference for work. It was nice being out of the office for a day - just me, the Interstate and my Sex and the City audiobook.

About halfway between Birmingham and Huntsville I saw a billboard: ARCHITECTURAL ANTIQUES.

Whoa. How perfect is that?

I eagerly turned off at the next exit, in Cullman, a town I've heard of but never been. It's old downtown was cute, busy and full of antique shops. The kind of downtown I love to see, the kind that has appreciation written all over it. (unlike our downtown, which is kind of sad)

Then I found Southern Accents Architectural Antiques. When I opened the door, I swear I heard a choir of angels singing.

It was everything I'd always daydreamed about - a shop and warehouse full of goodies. Mantels, doors, lighting, clawfoot tubs, doorknobs, doorbells, keys, newel posts, metal brackets, wood brackets, windows, iron grates, railings, gates, plinth blocks, drawer pulls. A whole outdoor lot full of beautiful cast iron clawfoot tubs and sinks in every size and shape.

And here it was! A mere 2 hours away!

But I had to get to the press conference, and I knew if I started really looking, I'd get sucked in and lose all track of time and wake up sometime the next morning clutching a pedestal sink and sucking my thumb.

So I left. I car-danced all the way to Huntsville. I giggled to myself. I tried to think of people to call who would actually care that I'd found a really awesome architectural salvage place. I was desperate to get back.

Fortunately, the press conference was pretty interesting in its own right. A plant in Huntsville is expanding, which will create 175 more manufacturing jobs. One of the reasons cited for choosing the location for expansion was the high quality of products put out by these men and woman grouped in a broad semi-circle behind us. When the governor said, "It is because of you," we all turned and gave them a standing ovation. I got a little tear in my eye because they reminded me of Darwin and how much pride he takes in his work (also at a manufacturing plant).

I thought it went well, and I was proud of myself, too, because I managed to discuss compacted graphite iron with some measure of intelligence. I'm in a male-dominated industry, so I love an opportunity to prove myself to be just as savvy as they are.

But then came the best part of the day - back to Southern Accents! Hurray!

The place was hoppin', and I think that's awesome. Give them your business, people! I want them to last forever and ever! The business was founded by Dr. Garlan Gudger Sr. in 1969, and now Garlan Gudger Jr. runs it. Which brings me to another awesome thing about this place - the staff are knowledgeable! According to their flier, Garlan has a degree in Building Science, specializing in innovative construction practices in historic properties. So cool! I asked a question, and they knew the answer! AND they were nice, especially his lovely wife whose name has momentarily left my head. I LOVE these people!

I originally asked about a marble sink, but when they didn't have one, I went out to the garden o' cast iron and fell in love with a curvy bombshell of a 1930s sink. It was gigantic and wonderful, and after a million questions that Garlan answered without batting an eyelash, I decided it would definitely work in our bathroom. Best of all, it didn't even need refinishing, so it only cost $137 after tax. Way cheaper than any of my other plans.

Never has picking up such a heavy weight been such a relief. Maybe that's because I didn't actually pick it up. Garlan and another guy did, and back at home I crushed my fingers between it and the trunk, and then a red-faced Darwin carried it into the house alone.

But it was worth it. I'm so glad I found it and so glad I found that place. I'll be dragging Darwin back there soon. Very soon.



Here's the web site: Southern Accents Architectural Antiques. They do ship, and I highly recommend them.

Here are my photos from the store.

Criminal for Hire

These sinks are so perfect (and perfectly out of reach, pricewise) that I might be persuaded to kill, hogtie or whip someone with a wet noodle to get my greedy little hands on them. So if someone needs a job done, I'm your girl.




Or if you're a long-lost rich relative wishing to buy me a present, anything at all from this site will do.

*In case it's not obvious, I'M JOKING.

Baby Whale All Grown Up

Heeheeheeheeeeeeeeeee! That's the sound of me being giddy. The tub? It is painted!

I couldn't find the "Canvas White" spray paint I wanted in any of the local stores and ended up having to order it online in a 6-pack (from Aubuchon Hardware). It arrived on Friday, and automatically Darwin and I both knew what we'd be doing Saturday, whether we liked it or not.

The color of the cap was just slightly lighter than the cap of the Almond spray paint.



I was anxious (I'll wait while you recover from the shock), but it turned out fine. Canvas White is the exact color we needed, and before it's over I think we'll need all six cans.

"Before it's over?" you say ... "I thought you were finished."

Yeah, well "finished" is a flexible term around here. The tub itself is pretty much finished, though we'll probably do one more coat.

Two out of four claw feet are primed, though OF COURSE we ran out of primer. The last two feet need to be buffed with a wire brush and washed to get any loose rust-dust off.

While dealing with the feet, D noticed two are marked 5 1/4 on the back, and two are marked 6. They are two different heights. We assume the shorter feet were intended to go toward the faucet end of the tub to help it drain better. But we are considering using the tall feet on the same side of the tub to help offset the slant in the bathroom floor. Maybe this is the intended purpose after all? Or maybe there were multiple purposes.

The feet look worlds universes better now that they're not all gunked with rust and old toxic paint. Ooh, so pretty.



And now for the moment you've been waiting for, the money shot:



Oops, wrong money shot. :) That's Darwin finishing up taping around the edge of the tub, which he wisely insisted we do. Lest anyone think I did nothing, I taped most of the edge. Yeah, and I scraped the rest of the paint off the feet while Darwin spray-painted the tub. I also spray painted some of the second coat.

So I'm not useless, even though I am so pathetic that I'm even bad at spray painting. And my forearm was sore the next day from holding down that stupid little button.

Anyway, I will now distract you with pictures so you will forget all about what I just said:



Is that not the perfect color? I love you, Canvas White.

Baby Whale Gets a Makeover

With all the paint finally scraped off, the rust ground off, and the residue washed off, the mottled gray hide of the clawfoot tub reminds me of a baby whale. Awww, it's so cute and harmless now that all the hard work is done.



It has been a long saga to get to this point. In December 2004, we brought it home. It sat out in the workshop untouched - except for a few times when I went and sat in it to daydream ( Don't judge me!). Then we started the bathroom renovation, and when the demo neared completion, I realized that duh - we had to get the tub ready to go in there. In June 2006 we started scraping it. We did that a couple of different days in June, but then the Summer of Stagnation (hereafter referred to as SOS) set in, and we got exactly 0.0001% of our planned work done.

I've been perusing the archives, and this is the first weekend in three weeks that we've actually accomplished something, and the first time in TWO MONTHS that we've made progress on the bathroom. Yeah, we've had legitimate excuses, but still - yikes!

The long SOS makes our accomplishments this weekend feel like superhero stuff. We finished scraping the tub and worked on scraping the bed. Then Darwin used the handy-dandy wire brush attachment for the drill to get rid of a bit of rust on the unpainted side of the tub and some uneven paint scraps left under the rim. He washed the tub and blow-dried it with his leaf blower, which chased the water around and around the rim of the tub. Then we taped up the tub openings with brown paper.

Finally, the moment! We spray-painted the exterior of the tub with white Rustoleum clean metal primer. It looked so crisp and white and not covered with globs of crackled, peeling lead paint! Yes!

Then, of course, we ran out of spray primer. But that can't keep me down. We're at the easy part now.

So today - Lowe's. We need more spray primer, and I want to find a top coat that's not quite so bright white. I saw a color called Canvas (I think) online, but Darwin didn't see it at Lowe's when he bought the spray primer. If they don't have it, there's a Home Depot I can try, too.

Okay, without further ado - the photos:

Before:




The only damper on my joy is that I hoped to have the tub finished by its 75th birthday. I had it in my head the birthday was September 17, 1931, but then we flipped it over Saturday and saw that the date is September 7. Oops, just missed it. Sorry, baby whale. Consider this your belated birthday celebration.

Inspiration in the Lowliest of Places

You may recall I've mentioned our bathroom renovation once or twice (*cough* 14 million times *cough*). I'm still not fully decided on a few things, so I look for inspiration everywhere.

When we paid a visit to our friend/neighbor/sort-of-aunt Judy the other day at her 1904 home - Greek Revival on the outside, Victorian on the inside - I'm sure she didn't expect me to run home for the camera and then spend long minutes hanging out in her upstairs bathroom snapping photos of everything from the toilet to the light fixture.

Good thing Judy is one of the kindest, most understanding people I know. Also good thing she is a tidy person! I can't imagine what horrors would be captured on film if someone burst into my bathroom with a camera.

Judy's whole house is a Victorian showcase, and I'll be posting more about it later. Of all the beautiful rooms, my favorite is the bathroom. It's similar in size and basic layout to ours - probably 8 x 14 compared with our 7 x 12 and with a window in one end and a door at the other, with the main entrance door in one side wall. It has wood floors like ours, though hers are not painted, and beadboard, though hers is the more desirable vertical, shoulder-height kind with a shallow window-ledge type thing capping it.



The sink is a tiny wall-hung with separate faucets (the kind that was in my dorm room in college), totally unobtrusive and purely functional. The clawfoot tub has no shower. The toilet is an old-fashioned model - I'd guess 1930s but haven't researched it yet. The rest of the room is furnished with wood furniture, tables, a chair and a dresser, laden with Victorian decorative items. The lighting is a startling black and white Art Deco pendant that adds a touch of whimsy.

The bathroom has a rustic, sparse, old-fashioned quality that I love. When you walk through the door, you could be stepping back in time. There are no jarring modern items to remind you when you really are.

That's what I want for our bathroom, though it will be more difficult to do with an everyday main bathroom vs. an infrequently used upstairs bathroom like this one. How can you capture that old-time feeling when you're staring at a row of plastic containers and a blow dryer?

Judy's bathroom has awakened my old perspective on our renovation. Couldn't we just do a simple sink and separate furniture as I originally planned?

The more I look at my current-getting ready station in the half bath - the countertop littered with mounds of hair stuff, lotions, makeup, jewelry - I realize even a bit of counterspace around a sink will never work. Sink vanities never have much storage because the sink takes up so much room in them. Within a week, the new countertop will turn into a giant junk heap.

I think I need a separate vanity after all - and I mean the kind you sit at - with lots of little drawers to put away all my beautifying devices. And wouldn't I feel such the Victorian lady sitting at a vanity with all my potions and tonics spread out around me?

I know I keep vascillating, and that must be terribly irritating. Heck, I'm annoying myself. But last night I had a dream I was walking through someone else's bathroom renovation, and asking where they got their marble countertop. Maybe that's a sign. Maybe what I want is a marble wall-hung sink, as discussed previously, with maybe a shelf underneath for towels.

Or maybe porcelain is good enough. Judy is planning to replace the toilet and sink in her bathroom with reproductions and has promised them to me if I want them. What do you think? A 70-year-old toilet sounds good to me!