I am fighting the urge to bow down and revere my bathroom.
After months of demolition, renovation, and last-minute decision making, my bathrooms are done. In conversation with a friend of mine the other day, she said, upon learning that the project is finally completed, "Isn't it funny how excited a new bathroom makes us?"
Why yes, and I'll tell you why. After three years of sitting on toilets that either sway backwards or sideways, after watching water disappear underneath the tub when Bear splashed a little too hard, and after one-too many glances into the Hollywood-1970's style mirror/light combo, I now am up to par with the 21st century restroom.
I also am thrilled not to be staring at stains around the toilet from you-know-whos. My new floor hides things very nicely, thank you very much.
I continually walk by the door to the hallway bathroom and stop in vain amazement at our good fortune.
I'm not ready, however, for anyone to actually use the facility, lest it get dirty before I am done stargazing. They can go downstairs to the other 1970's potty.
As the mother and cleaner, I am sure I am entitled to this for at least a few more days.
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