The thing about old houses is, you never know what the project will entail. When we tore down the wall of the shower, I expected to find a thoroughly rotten wall. Instead, though there were rotten layers, the wall was dry as a bone (not a bone still in your body, that would be quite wet, no, the animal kind that has been bleaching in the field for a couple of years). Instead, the plumbing gave us trouble.
After the plumbing was all repaired, I thought we had had our surprise problem. Not so.
The rest of the problems were not the fault of the old bones (hmm, bones again . . .) of my beautiful bungalow. They were MY fault. First, in the middle of a big project which held the only shower in the house hostage, I got a terrible stomach flu. I was out for two days. (Lest you think we were all living mimics of Pig Pen, the bath was accessible . . . ish.)
Second, I had a serious grout problem. I won't go into the whole thing, but I'll just let you know that I made a stupid mistake then punished myself (subconsciously) into solving the problem the hardest way possible. After ninety minutes, my husband, armed with the internet, intervened and handed me a much easier solution. It was still a hard process, but, if the grout had animation capabilities, it would have forgiven me.
Third, I planned on painting the whole bathroom (including the parts of the repaired walls that weren't behind the tile) the existing color. I knew I had half of a gallon in the basement which would have been enough. Upon opening the can, I realized that the last time the can was used, presumably by me, the lid was not secured tightly. The top two inches of the paint was solidified which rendered the whole can useless. Instead of painting the top third of two walls and touching up the other walls, I am re-painting the whole friggen bathroom.
But, it is almost done. My body is tired, my hands are cracked and scraped and my family needs me. A week is what I budgeted. With the time lost from sickness, I am officially going to go one day over. Oh, well.
Here is a sneak peek--complete with snoozing two year old.
She is now in pajamas in her bed. I am going to follow her lead. I am bone tired (heh, heh, heh).
Goodnight, my dears.