Some progress

Finally, we’re starting to put things back into the bathroom, instead of ripping them out. Just one trip to Lowe’s this weekend and another trip to Drake Hardware for a plumbing part. It’s surprising to find how long everything takes. But we didn’t spend all weekend on it, either — you can only breathe so much drywall dust. So, Carol built a “collar” to hold the shower pipe in place (it was slipping out through the wall), I put in some insulation, we put in some blue DensGuard tile backer board, and I just finished putting on the first coat of joint compound. We’re ready to go with the new floor underlayment (we decided to rip out all the old particle board instead of patching it) as soon as we get the last piece of wall taken out.

 

The Sub-floor Awaits.

Peace on Earth + blown-up bathroom

Just a couple of pics on this Christmas Eve:

Nowhere to go but up, from here ...

Let sleeping Vizslas lie

 

The Nose Knows.

All is vanity

I am so excited because we found a gorgeous vanity at Lowe’s yesterday for our new bathroom. They had the vanity top in stock so we brought it home, but the stand has to be special ordered and is due here December 31. This is what it looks like (although ours is a dark brown, not black):

We’re both fans of the open storage idea, so we’ll use the bottom shelf for a wicker basket and towels, and will install a medicine cabinet in the wall to take care of the toothpaste and etc. Getting rid of the big cabinet that’s in there now and replacing it with this should help make this little bathroom seem a bit more roomy. We’re also thinking about this tile for the floor:

 

It’s pretty neutral, and light-colored, but has some earth tones in it that should work with the bathtub and tile bath surround, which is a sort of beige-y pink. The tile is porcelain, which was recommended to us because it’s tougher than ceramic. It has a neat natural stone kind of look to it, which we really preferred to the perfectly shiny tiles that look so manufactured. So today we’ll be getting busy on taking out the old vanity and sink, and peeling tile off of the walls, and prepping the floor. I’m secretly leaning towards maybe putting up white wainscotting on the walls, halfway up, but that’s just a thought at this point.

Adios to “The Blender.”

Wednesday evening we took the commode out of the bathroom. I’ve always hated this toilet. It just never had any … oomph. It was known unaffectionately as “The Blender,” because it just kinda mixed stuff up without doing much of anything else … We were looking at toilets Monday night at Lowe’s, where we purchased new plumbing fixtures and backer board to replace the wet drywall we’re tearing out, and I noticed one model that claimed it could flush a bucket of golf balls. I can’t decide if that’s exciting or disturbing.

The Blender

 

"But where did my water dish go?"

 

 

Isn’t this special.

You know, 99.9999% of the time indoor plumbing just rocks. It’s the best thing ever. Then there’s the other .0001% of the time. You know. When something, unbeknownst to you, starts leaking and by the time you realize it — by the time the bathroom carpet, say, is suddenly a bit spongy — your drywall has become wetwall and you have a surprise remodeling opportunity on your hands. Stay tuned. This is going to be a multi-part story.

 

Abundance, Pt. II

And then there’s this: which my sweetheart is making for me right now. Life is good.

Abundance

Life has been rushing by so quickly, the days just flying; time seems compressed by the early-falling darkness and the pell-mell effort, every day, to get it all done. It’s easy, easy, easy to feel pushed, pinched, pressed, exhausted. And tempting to feel that there isn’t “enough” — enough time, enough energy.

But there is a stack of firewood sitting on the back patio, now covered with snow, that reminds me that there is abundance. I built a fire the other evening, even though I was tired, and just the simple act of gathering the arm load of wood, arranging it on the grate, and setting the match brought me back to myself. The house filled with mellow warmth and we sat by the fire all evening — Carol and I, and the three dogs. Slowly. Quietly. Warmly.