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It appears that, against all odds, our bathroom remodel is actually going to draw to a close this week after six weeks, make that seven, oops more like eight, the glass door for the shower was backordered. How on earth will I cope with having two fully functional bathrooms again?
I guess it means giving up the special closeness that comes with four people, two of whom have hair to the middle of their backs, sharing one shower, one sink, and one toilet in the smaller bathroom. It will mean giving up the fun game of “who left their undies and reading material on the bathroom floor again?” although since only one of us is a man, there were times when it wasn’t that hard to solve. Rhetorical debates about the relative importance of capping toothpaste tubes will fall by 50%. We’ll also miss out on the opportunity to hone vital negotiation skills in the constant conversation about who gets to shower next and how bad do you really need to go to the bathroom because I guarantee you, I have been holding it longer.
For my husband and me, I guess it’s goodbye to the extra cardio and balance exercises that came with the inevitable middle age middle-of- the-night bathroom trip down a set of slippery wooden stairs and a hallway, in the dark, at 2:00 am. We’ll have to add in a nocturnal weekend workout on a sheer rock-climbing wall with no harnesses to recreate the feeling of danger.
I’ll miss how the bathroom looked like our very own (cut-rate) Sephora store, what with the makeup, face creams and potions inventory of two teenage girls and one aging mother arranged just so on the edge of the pedestal sink. Pedestal sink! The first thing I told our contractor when we started discussing the remodel was NO MORE PEDESTAL SINKS because I have learned that the allure of “clean lines and spare design” has a dark side called “Your things will have to be stored on the floor because you don’t have countertops, idiot.” The new bathroom will be 2/3 countertop.
I’ll tell you what else I’ll miss. The feeling of living inside a magical snow globe as the plaster rained like gentle snowflakes onto my head, what with my home office being directly beneath the bathroom that was torn down to the studs. Or the uncanny timing of the workers, who knew to wait until I was on a conference call with an important client before they began jack hammering or grinding or pounding or whatever else they were doing up there. The moment I hung up? Back to quiet pursuits like painting and eating lunch. I’ll miss that. Bet my clients will, too.
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Of course how I feel about saying goodbye to this home project pales in comparison to how Achilles will adjust back to the now-unaccustomed quiet. First off, he’ll be able to walk down the hallway from the bathroom to the front door without having an anxiety attack about treading on the plywood that the workers put down to protect the hardwood floor. For most sentient beings, switching out one type of wood flooring for another wouldn’t be so upsetting, but for Achilles it was like reversing the rotation of the planet. He had to concentrate very hard every time he set a foot on that twenty feet of floor, and only did so if coerced by dog treats.
It’s also going to be boring for Achilles there’s no new worker to bark at and investigate each time the front door swings open, even if it’s not so much a new worker as the same guy who has been here for six, I mean seven, I mean eight weeks making yet another trip inside with tools and supplies. Each time, Achilles likes to make him feel acknowledged. Bet my clients will miss the barking dog soundtrack to our calls, too.
But every good thing comes to an end, probably within another week, depends on that glass delivery, and I guess it’s finally time to say goodbye. I’ll miss you, home remodeling guys. I’ll think of you every time I set something on my bathroom counter at 2 am, just steps away from my bedroom door.
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Can you imagine the hair product that goes into styling electronic pop band Au Revoir Simone? Glad I don’t share a bathroom with them.