I find stupid irony in that we've just barely gotten to changing out our bathroom floor.
When we first saw our house, the only thing we didn't like was the carpeted water closets.
"Yeah, the house is great, but the carpet near the toy-toy's have to go."
And after 58,854 other projects, we finally decided to do the deed.
And do I love my new, stone floor? Does a one-legged duck swim in circles?
You deserve to know a few things about travertine. It's pretty. It's worth it. But it also needs thicker backerboard, more expensive mortar, and a pretty steeply priced sealer. So there's that.
Learned a few things these last 5 days of hard work.
It is darned inconvenient to be without one's master bath.
We both decided we detest showering in all the other bathrooms. Consequently, we might only have had one shower in all that time. . .
Ever gone past the B.O. phase and to something more. . . sinister? Oh. Well, me neither.
Little pet peeve here. Picture it:
middle of the night, you're sound asleep, and you have to get up or your bladder might explode. So. Annoying. (and if you have that dream one more time that you're sitting on the can, you might just go ahead and go. Or do just I have that dream?)
Allow me to one-up that pet peeve: waking up, having to go, and stumbling around to find that you do not, in fact, have a working toilet, so you get to stumble around in the dark to drain the main vein elsewhere.
Is it too much to ask to use one's own shower? To actually. . . shower? To get the plunger and the toilet scrubber out of the tub and back where it belongs?
And, by golly, if one must drop the kids off at the pool, that there is one's very own toilet for that?
I missed you, bathroom. There. I said it.