Shoot. Me. Now. Please.

Well, I got the bright idea that we should try to waterproof the shower here. You know, to, oh, say, make it actually easy to bathe. (Keep in mind this is a sixty year-old house I inherited from my grandparents.) All my life I’ve taken sit-down showers or tub baths in this bathroom, ever since I was a kid, because the wallboard wasn’t really waterproof. I decided to rectify that, since while Hubby and I do like to shower together, it’s a pain in the ass to stand there and hold the shower head for each other.

So last weekend, Sir busted His ass helping us, got the shower done, replaced the cartridges in the shower tree (the old ones were shot, but we didn’t want to have to pull the piping out of the wall and redo it), and I said I’d take it from there. I decided to replace the sink and put new beaded board paneling up, paint it, etc.

Ha. Hahahahahaha. I’m a really fuuuuunny woman, yes I am.

After screaming bloody murder at sixty year-old steel pipe fittings that didn’t want to break loose (this was after I had to tear half the wall paneling out to get to them) and converting them over to CPVC lines and fittings (the old ones would require cutting into the cabinet because they came in too high), and fighting with the NEW valves that didn’t want to stop leaking (pipe dope is now my friend), and replacing the old toilet valve and supply line (figured if the damn wall was out, might as well while I was there) I got the new sink and new vanity in. (The old sink was wall-hung with two legs in the front.)

Here’s where the fun begins.

The damn cold water supply line was too short, because once I got the valve to stop leaking, it was at an odd angle and I didn’t want to risk loosening it just to get it in the right place. So I needed a longer supply line. And the drain pipe entered the wall at a funky angle (steel pipe) so I had to play Frankenstein with the P-trap and a flexi-pipe to get THAT to fit. I got the WRONG fucking size. Turns out our sink is 1-1/4″ from drain to wall, whereas many are 1-1/4 at the drain and 1-1/2 at the wall.

Oh, what’s this puddle of water? It’s…

The fucking TOILET TANK leaking from a hairline crack on the side.

GRRRRRR.

BACK to the home improvement store I go Thursday night, it was past 8 o’clock and no. Fucking. Way was I even going to attempt a toilet replacement at that time of night.

Did I mention I am in severe pain due to I’m in a fibro flare?

At this point, we’d been three days without a bathroom sink. Finally got THAT working last night after finding the right parts to make it work in ways that would probably make a licensed plumber’s eye twitch. I. Don’t. Care. It works, it drains, and it doesn’t fucking leak. Ask me if I give a shit what it looks like.

I don’t.

Mind you, this project started last weekend.

So today I finished getting the rest of the bathroom paneling in, get the backsplash up, get a coat of paint slapped up, get most of the new flooring in. Run back to the home improvement store for moulding. Parents come over for dinner at 6. I wanted to get another coat of paint up tonight before collapsing in a Percocet-induced lack of pain, but…

Oh, wait. What’s this?

The light switch no longer works.

Fuck.

Me.

Yes, I tried changing the bulb. The switch, the original sixty year-old switch, has died.

I fucking give up.

And yes, the toilet is still leaking. Only now it’s not leaking as much and looks like it has white warts all over the outside of it from the epoxy putty. Eventually it’ll be some New Age artsy looking thing, with more epoxy than tank visible. (The toilet is a four-bolt, they don’t make that kind anymore. That’s why I don’t want to try to mess with replacing it right now.)

Percocet, here I come. I’d be willing to bet my grandfather is looking down on me and laughing his ass off.