Monday, 9:02 a.m., September 27, Brian, our contractor started to tear out our old (and only full) bathroom, including the shower and tub. On Friday, 8:26 p.m., October 30, I stepped out of the newly installed shower, wet, onto the bathmat lying on the newly installed Mediterranean tile—clean at last. For more than a month, Stephen and I have been washing up every day, using either the upstairs or downstairs sink. In that month, I learned a lot about making do and keeping reasonably presentable.
I thought it was going to be a nightmare. The backup plan included occasional borrowing of Annie’s shower, staying overnight a couple of times a week in the Holiday Inn, and even moving into the Residence Inn if things got too difficult. Part of what had me so worried was that Stephen was still recuperating from hip surgery and was not very mobile. And I dreamed about a house full of plaster dust and dirt, and noisy hammerings, bangings and other scary noises. I worried what if the contractor disappears, or gets sick, or is doing two jobs at once.