Because only a bald man who hates showering would design a bathroom like the one I have.
Need proof?
You may not realize it but I had less than a foot of usable space at my sink, which for some stupid reason is less than 2' from the stupid oversized door!
Now, I can't complain TOO much - my place is well-built, and the plumbing is awesome. However, I am what I am: a GTA-raised Suburban Princess. I'm not going to deny it. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I am the voter Harper longs for but can't capture (what can I say, I play permanently hard-to-get!).
I don't want much from a bathroom - counter space, storage and an aesthetically pleasing decor. And hey, not getting electrocuted when I'm doing my hair - bonus! (And as my fellow Suburban Princesses can attest: it is ALL ABOUT THE HAIR.)
That being said? I am totally a product of Robert Munsch's The Paperbag Princess. My parents ordered it from Scholastic after hearing about it. Remember, back in 1980, feminism was something encouraged. Legos were non-gender-specific. My Barbies drove my GI Joes' tanks and jeeps, TYVM!
My Daddy gave me my first hammer at 2. He drummed it into my head that Prince Charming can order in; I should be busy slaying dragons, not tied to some sink. I am better than that. And Daddy wanted to make sure that I could at least do the basics so that my 'Honey Do' list was more a 'Honey, I can do it myself, thanks!' list.
I had always planned to fix the bathroom but it wasn't even remotely urgent. Until now.
I nearly electrocuted myself *again* and boy did I have fun taking revenge:
I did what Snow White should have done in the first place: I hammered that blasted mirror. And it was *glorious*. (Smashy-smashy!)
So I thought I would 'sing of arms and of a woman' (heh) and chronicle my odyssey of home renovation here. I figure you lot can either cheer me on or laugh at my screw-ups.
Enjoy, peeps.
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