My master bathroom has been under construction for a full year now. I know this because I recently baked my husband a football shaped birthday cake:
See, he made the mistake of starting the renovation on his birthday. It's made it easy for everyone he knows to track exactly how long he's been working on it. That would a full year now. Did I mention that?
Back in August when my husband finished the tile work, I joked that we might have a toilet in there by the end of the year. That makes me laugh just thinking about it. Mostly because there’s no toilet in there right now. There is however a lovely shower stall:
No fixtures or shower head of course. Perfection can't be rushed. Besides, if our master bathroom had a functioning shower I wouldn't get the privilege of sharing a shower with 18 miniature rubber ducks that seemed like a funny Christmas present for a new 2 year old.
The shower doors were installed three days before my husband's birthday. The day before his birthday he and his dad installed baseboards:
Then they worked well into the evening on wainscoting:
Me thinks the looming one year anniversary may have inspired him. Unfortunately, a wall problem had to be fixed before the wainscoting could go in. A drywall related wall problem that involved spackle, drying, sanding, painting and fraying every last bit of my husband’s patience. But at least the wainscoting is cut, fitted and waiting in the wings to go in. I look forward to it going in. Not because I care about it getting done quickly but because it’s currently blocking my ability to get dressed:
See the red thing behind the wainscoting boards. That's a dolly. This morning I stepped on the bottom front part of it in the dark on the way to my closet. It whacked me full in the face. And to think I worried about tripping over the giant compressor next to my side of the bed:
Silly me. Almost as silly as standing on the bed to take a photo of wainscoting blocking your closet and getting hit in the head by the ceiling fan. It's hard to believe anything could hurt more than the dolly to the face but you'd be surprised how solid those ceiling fan blades are. I informed the newest 4 year old of my head injury only to have her tell me, "That's what you get for standing on the bed." From the mouths of babes.