Shower Rock Star

Since I've lived in Kansas City, I've been fortunate enough to be a part of a mother's group that has allowed me to meet other people.  We don't make it to playgroup very often (my kids play with each other and prefer to break plates and dance around the house, or was that the Greeks?  My brother married a Greek girl, and they do indeed break plates when it's fun time, and while we're on the topic of fun, did you see this week's episode of Glee?  We need some booty camp up in her-uh.), but I do go to book swap and every now and then a "just for the hell of it drinking and games" night.

These peeks into other people's homes are precisely why I have not had many guests over to the Kiefer Cottage.  For the most part, I've seen beautifully decorated homes.  Kitchens the size of my first floor (and also the size of my tiny dining room--but they're still awesomely gorgeous).  Huge, dramatic art hanging on the walls.  Bathrooms, that, well, you know, don't require a shoe horn for you to get from the door to the toilet!  Nothing ostentatious, and rarely have I seen anything that made me kelly green with envy.  But having a house that is nowhere close to where I'd like it to be can be a tad discouraging, especially since I can't just send them up to the "master bathroom" because it's in equally bad shape.

This morning, though, I thanked my lucky stars that I have a clean slate to start with.  I don't have to arbitrarily knock a perfectly good kitchen down just because I'm bored.  I have a perfectly horrible kitchen to knock down!  And the bathroom--um.  You're gonna see it today.

I feel I should qualify this entry a bit beforehand. These photos are not for the faint of heart.  Everything is scrubbed, Scout's honor, despite appearances.

Oversized vanity.  Ugly tile floor to ceiling.

Oooo-glee floor tile. And a space barely large enough for my ample bottom to pass through.

Our Jacuzzi Tub.

The pump switch for aforementioned Jacuzzi tub.  You cannot run it. Ever. Dry or Wet.

Worse than the air bag warnings in your car.

I know you are loving the space.  The inspector told us to NEVER use the tub jets.  Well, that's easy because it was disconnected when we moved in.  Plus, the electrical connections are "illegal" (I keep waiting for the cops to show up).  We have a few challenges, though, before we can deal with this bathroom.

First off, the flooring.  Or really, the floor.  It's not level. At all.  It's wavy.  Kind of tough to install new tile, right?

Second, there is a ton of stuff that will have to be done.  The walls are a terrible tile, the ceiling is more terrible, and pretty much everything was done by a supreme amateur, meaning that is will probably require at least double the work of a regular bathroom project.  We can't just do it one fixture at a time (except maybe the toilet).  This is a gut job.  As much as my environmentally friendly heart aches saying that.

Third, and most importantly, moolah.  Ugh, I'm so tired of hearing about this. Well, sorry John-boy.  Ryan is a writer and I stay home with the kids.  We're not rolling in dough.  Not even close!

So what will we do in the meantime?  We'll enjoy the acoustics of the shower (Journey sounds particularly good in there) and Ryan will start writing his soft porn in order to fund our project.  Suggestions for story titles are welcomed.