This Old Bathroom

THIS OLD BATHROOM

If I'm counting correctly, my wife and I have lived in our present home for 30 years as of the 21^st of next month. We got married in '72 and moved into this house on the longest day of the year, June 21, six years later so... guess that makes 30 years. Its what they call in the residential want ads as an “older home”. Close as I can figure it was built in the first few years of the last century – somewhere around '01 to '05. I guess that made Teddy Roosevelt our president when it was constructed. You remember him? The old Roughrider? Walk softly and carry a big stick? That Teddy? It looks like they added the garage later, probably in the 20's or 30's. Weren't a lot of cars around before then. Anyhow, that would make it a “century” house if I wanted to get nitpicking about it. I suppose I could apply and get one of those plaques that the city (or is it the state?) issues to place on the outside of the house commemorating the actual antiquity of the residence, thus becoming an “official” century house. Don't think I'll do that. Too much pressure to keep it spiffy then. Think I'll just keep it an “older home”. Much more comfortable that way.

This old house sits in a neighborhood of similar homes, all approximately the same age and in various stages of repair and disrepair. I'm happy to report that most of them are in pretty decent shape, so it's not a slum by any stretch of the imagination. But a quiet, middle-class sort of place. It still sports its original slate roof and has not been sided like a lot of my neighbors homes. I keep it painted, though, and it looks fine most of the time. I've recently added new energy efficient windows all around and had the garage and both porch roof's shingled. When I insulated the attic about a decade ago I found some newspapers stapled to some of the rafters – apparently some long-ago resident thought there was some insulating properties in newsprint. I'm more a fan of the insulating properties of the pink, itchy stuff. But one of the newspapers stapled up there had a juicy article on the front page about a ship called the Lusitania which had just been sunk. I believe it was 1915. An interesting historic discovery and, if I remember my world history, a precursor to a war that was to end all wars.

You and I both know it didn't.

I had blow-in insulation added to the walls a few years ago and am installing new entry doors and a new furnace this year. We should be snug as bugs in a rug this coming winter, to use a tired cliche. Can't say I'm looking forward to the cold and snow, but I'll be facing it with less trepidation this year.

Which brings me to the bathroom.

Houses of this age are notorious for little or no closet space, smaller yards, cramped driveways and teeny-weeny single bathrooms. Mine is no different. The bathroom here is very small. A prison inmate would feel cramped in it – please forgive the bowel allusion. When we moved in three decades ago the bath was painted in a simply atrocious shade of pink – picture the color of one of those wintergreen lozenges or the color of Pepto-Bismol. Fine for candy mints or an antacid liquid, nothing wrong there, but migraine-inducing for a wall color. So my first major project after moving in was to redo the bath. We ended up with a busy-patterned green wallpaper, creme-colored floor tiles and chocolate-brown accents. I thought it looked kinda nice. Way better than... well, you know what it was way better than.

But now? Yeah, I know, I know. I should have redone the bath again long before now. But... You find out that when you really get used to something... after a while you really don't see it anymore. I can't believe how ready that room had now become for another redo. The wife had called my attention to it recently and, after taking a look with attentive eyes for a change I could see how hideous it had become.

So, after making some plans with the wife and discussing color choices, I've finally started with the project. I spent last Sunday painting the woodwork in the bathroom with two coats of a latex semi-gloss in a light cream color. Almost a white.

As an aside, have you noticed that you can't buy white paint anymore? They have all kinds of euphemistic words that kinda mean white but really don't. Like linen, moonlight, muslin, cloud, lace, creme, parchment, buttermilk, white sand, toad belly, fish belly, hog belly, etc., etc. Well, maybe not the last three. But to my eyes they're all kinda white.

The 30-year-old cream color that I had painted on in the '70's was now a deep nicotine yellow. And yes, I used to smoke and yes, that was, in part, the reason for the yellowing. But that's another long story.

But isn't it wonderful how gliding on a fresh coat of paint can make something dingy become new again. It gave me an almost visceral thrill watching that hundred-year-old woodwork start to look new! For a moment there I was the Botticelli of the Bathroom, the Renoir of the Restroom, the Picasso of the Pooper! Its funny how a paintbrush and a canvas, even if the canvas is some dingy woodwork, can release the creative juices. I guess there has to be some payoff for a dirty, grimy job.

After reveling in the artistic endeavor of putting a fresh coat of paint on some old wood, I began the job I had been dreading for weeks. Removing the old wallpaper. I'd heard many horror stories concerning the difficulty of the task before me and was trembling with apprehension on starting it. But it must have been my turn with Miss Good Luck, 'cause the old wallpaper came off quite easily and I was actually done stripping it within an hour or so. To commemorate my good luck I decided to give thanks and to light a candle to the patron saint of strippers, Bettie Paige! Well, I was stripping something, wasn't I? Even if it was wallpaper?

I woke up the next day with my muscles all stiff and sore and aching in places I didn't know I had places. Since I am a desk jockey by trade, spending a whole day crawling around with paintbrush, paint bucket, trimming knife, tape, newspapers to catch drips and a putty knife to help peel wallpaper was a whole body workout.

Just can't wait to see how it's going to go when I paint the walls and tile the floor.

But I'll be sure to let you know.