So what's next on the renovation menu?

With the master bedroom complete we really need to move on to the master bath. What’s wrong with it you ask? Hmmm…Besides being 30 years old, it's ugly, it's ugly and - that's it. It's just ugly. It’s also very tiny, but unfortunately that is not going to change. I’m hoping that once renovated, it will be a gorgeous albeit tiny master bath. I had considered actually enlarging the bath by using some space in the master bedroom, but eventually decided against it for multiple reasons. One, the most important reason, is that it would be much more expensive. Two, I don’t think we would get the money back when this house is sold. And three, we don’t really need a large master bath. I know, I know. All the ones you see on HGTV are enormous with a separate tub and shower and enough square feet for a Dancing with the Stars episode.  But really how much time are these people actually spending in that bathroom? If it’s more than 15 minutes a day I think we need to consider this a problem that needs an intervention or at the very least a gastroenterologist.

I know this may be hard to believe but one thing that my husband and I do not fuss at each other about is use of our minuscule bathroom. It’s too small for two people to be in there at one time and frankly even if it was larger, I don’t WANT to be in there when he is doing whatever he spends his time doing in the bathroom, which usually involves reading a magazine – and guys, I still do not get that. And just for the record, I’d like to know how you guys can time it so you "read" at the same time every day. How do you do that? Trust me - it’s a mystery to women. And while I do NOT want to be in there while he is doing his thing, he certainly does not want to be there when I’m in there plucking, flossing, and exfoliating, whatever. I truly believe our marriage has lasted nearly 30 years because we have both steered clear of the bathroom when the other is utilizing it and kept that part of our lives private.

The plan for the bathroom is take it to the studs. It’s a gut job. I can’t wait to get started. So the question is when will we start? Wish I had the answer.

I’m waiting for the go ahead from my husband. He really needs to be on board since he is most of the brawn. I think I’ll start leaving subtle hints like maybe removing the toilet paper holder or taking off the toilet seat or maybe writing on the mirror, “This bathroom stinks!” Well not literally, but you know what I mean.

With a new renovation looming I think it’s time I gave you an insight into the last time we took on a complete gut job in our guest bath.

We started over spring break and I thought it would be like TV – done in one episode. Let’s just say that certainly wasn’t the case. We were still working on it in June. We ran into lots of problems – leaky plumbing, unlevel floor, a tub that did not fit, and last, but definitely not least – a trip to the hospital.

I am SO Nicole Curtis in this picture!

Everything had been demoed – walls and sub-floor. The bathroom was a shell. Since this was a 2^nd floor bathroom the floor joists were exposed. Phil laid a piece of scrap lumber over part of the floor so we could stand in the room. It covered a few floor joists however, the end of the board was without support. It was dangerous to be sure. If Phil were to step on that end, the board would flip and he would go straight through the ceiling and into our laundry room below. As he worked while standing on that board, he heard me harping, “Don’t step there,” “Be careful”, “Watch out for the end of the board,” over and over and over again. I thought I was doing a slam up job of giving him warnings of the dangers that lay beneath his feet. He was probably screaming in his head, “Shut the f___ up you stupid woman!”, and I would not have blamed him. I was getting annoyed with my own badgering.

Everything was exposed including our lack of renovating talent.

We were at the point where we were measuring for the sub floor we were installing. Measuring was my department. I was kneeling on the board with tape measure in hand and I could not reach the place where I needed to get dimensions. Without thinking of the ramifications, I scooted to the end of the board and -----WHAM!!!. The board flipped and my face came crashing down on the floor joist. It wasn’t funny at the time, but now when I think of what I must have looked like, it must have resembled something comical. My butt was in the air, my face was planted on the joist, my shoulder was wedged between two floor joists, and my hand was still holding that frickin’ tape measure.  I was stuck. Phil acted quickly knowing he had to somehow pull me out. He managed to get the board down so he could step into the bathroom. Once he got a foothold he literally pried me out between the floor joists. This was our conversation when I was finally upright:

Me: I think I broke my face.

Phil: I think you broke your shoulder.

(I rotated my shoulder around):

Me: No, It feels OK. What does my face look like?

Phil: It’s really bleeding.

Me: Does it look broken?

Phil: Hard to tell.   (Hmmm – now that I think about this comment I think I feel insulted)

I made my way to the mirror while I was feeling around my cheekbone for anything that was loose or moving in my face. I couldn’t feel anything move so I began to think I just dodged a huge bullet. However, the blood was trickling down my face and down my chest. I had a sizeable cut right on my cheekbone. Phil thought I needed stitches. I told him that we should try butterfly stitches first. (I didn’t want to admit that I was a wimp who was afraid to get a shot in my face and so vain that I didn’t want that ugly black thread sticking out of my face). Well it seems that the ugly black thread would have been the least of my worries. The whole side of my face was turning a deep shade of purple very quickly. I grabbed the ice packs and thought they should take care of most of the swelling. Boy was I wrong.

This was BEFORE everything swelled and turned purple.

The next day was a Monday and of course a school day for me. By now the purple had spread from all over my cheek to all around my eye. The swelling was ridiculous, and I’m sure to most people I looked like someone had beaten the hell out of me. Being a person that never misses a day of work I slapped a HUGE band aid on my face and soldiered on. When I got to work I sent out an email to the entire faculty explaining that I am an idiot and that I watch too much DIY TV and to please not laugh when they see my face. But wait, you may ask – when does the hospital come into play? 

A few days after this debacle I started running a fever and not feeling well. While bemoaning my condition to a co-worker, she told me that I could have fractured something in my sinus and that she had read somewhere that all the goop could leak into my brain and I could die from the infection. I proceeded to drive like a banshee to the ER convinced that I was already on death's door in regards to the goop. I could picture Phil telling our children, “I’m sorry kids, your mother died from goop on the brain.”

I ended up with a CAT scan and luckily and quite amazingly nothing was broken. The fever, according to the doc, was just a virus. I asked, “So my brain isn’t being overtaken by sinus goop?” He gave me a look that screamed, “They let you around children???” But he politely said, “No, besides being black and blue, nothing is broken.”

So as we prepare for another round of bathroom renovation I must summon up the courage to face the measuring tape and carry on. Good news is the scar on my cheek is hardly noticeable. Bad news is I now have floor joist phobia. Wonder if there's a support group for this?

After the blood, sweat and tears... a really well done guest bath!