I'm in the middle of tearing apart my downstairs bathroom. It's amazing what people will do to houses, isn't it? My bathroom is a very generic, blah bathroom, with a tiny built in sink. When I came to pick up the keys to my house, and the previous owner gave me the final tour, she gazed fondly on the bathroom, clearly proud of what she and her husband had done to it.
"When we moved into the house," she began, "there was one of those awful pedestal sinks here in the bathroom. My husband took care of that right away, ripped it out, and built this nice cabinet on his ten-inch table saw. Made such an improvement, don't you think?"
I cringed as I heard this, pining for what used to be. The moment I saw that bathroom, I knew that it needed a pedestal sink, and my plans were to put one in, and restore the bathroom to its original condition.
I've had the sink and the toilet, plus the new light fixtures, for probably two years now, and for whatever reason, I just haven't gotten around to tearing up the old one. I suppose it's because once you start, you're committed. And I'm certainly committed now! I'm tired of waiting for my new bathroom. And besides, my tub sprung a leak a few months ago, that forced me to rip out the ceiling.
I've been wrestling for the past couple of hours with taking down the wall cabinet and dismantling the sink cabinet. Had to take a little breather, but I'm going back in for some more destruction!
I'll post some pictures of the progress. I've got today, Friday, maybe Saturday (is the painting party still on, Torey?), and next Monday. We'll see how far along I make it.
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After we redid our kitchen and some other projects, Paul suggested invited the former owner to visit.
"So that she can see we hated everything she had done so much that we immediately changed it?"
In that light he agreed it wouldn't be the kindly gesture he intended.
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