When we started work on the master bath, we moved our toothbrushes and shampoos over to the guest bath. We thought it would be temporary; only a few weeks. We transferred only a few things and placed them on the countertop. As we needed more stuff, the countertop got cluttered and we started filling drawers.
Now, I have lost count of the number of toilet paper rolls we have used up, I am ready for my third bar of soap, and my large bottle of shampoo is getting empty — all consumed in the guest bath. The rate of consumption of such items is relatively constant. They measure time. We use toilet paper only for our own routines and we typically shower once a day. If the daily routine gets more frequent, that increased rate of use is also relevant to an accurate measure of time's passage.
Yesterday we cut and laid the last tiles: itty, bitty one-inch pieces of marble fed in cumbersome, mesh-backed sheets through the wet saw, or individually to cut a special one-third or triangle shape. The glass-block wall is now framed with small and contrasting marble tiles, each delicately cut and laid with Shari's and my joint consensus. The shower tiling is complete, the wet saw has been hosed off and put away in storage, and my two sets of work clothes — regularly drenched in front (that's why they call it a wet saw) and laid out to dry on the bedroom floor — are put away in the garage where they belong.Shari still has grouting ("Grout expectations," I keep murmuring), caulking and painting to finish. She has already worked her fingers bloody pushing grout into the many spaces between sharp marble edges. Trouble is, she likes to grout and she is good at it. I like cutting and laying tiles. As for grouting, my grout lines reflect my dislike for that job.
I have a one-gang electrical outlet to replace with a two-gang, and plumbing to restore. Using the master bath is still only a fervent hope. Maybe by year-end. Meanwhile, I need to get a new bar of soap.
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