Thirteen and a half months ago my beloved tore out our master bathroom in hopes of someday sitting on his throne without a counter directly in his face. Eleven days ago, running water was finally restored to that master bathroom. And lo, it was a good day.
The toilet, the sink and the shower all work. I know this because some wacky toilet problem led to calling in a bona fide plumber and since he was here anyway my husband went ahead and told him we'd take the works. Look running water in the sink:
Don't believe me? Here I am brushing my teeth:
Every night since the sink got installed, I've walked to the hall bathroom to brush my teeth only to look around in confusion when my toothbrush wasn't there. In the morning, I never remember the toilet works until I'm flushing the toilet in the hall. It's the best mental block I've ever had to get over. Behold the awesomeness that is my nearly done master bathroom:
I love literally everything about that bathroom. I want to have babies with the wall color. I want to serve the wainscoting breakfast in bed for the rest of my life. And I'm already developing separation anxiety just thinking about leaving that bathroom behind when we move to the new house I secretly shop for on Realtor.com when I'm at work.
Although I feel certain I'm capable of letting go. Like, say, in exchange for a house with a whirlpool bathtub. And maybe a bigger kitchen. And a laundry room. And a better neighborhood. But for now, I'm happy pretending my entire house looks like that beautiful bathroom. Although, in my head, you don't have to step over a Shop Vac to get in the door. But it's all good.