My husband and I just celebrated our thirty-second anniversary. Thirty two years is a long time and we have the wrinkles and scars to prove they’ve happened, but even so, there are moments and days when I fall in love with him all over again.
Some couples take up square dancing or become sports fanatics or spend time with the grand kids. We both love baseball, but since we decided to give up cable TV, we haven’t watched a game. Our beautiful kids and grands are far away, so we only see them once in a while. There’s no question about how we will spend our free time, though, because something we love to do as a couple is remodel our home. We’re a bit crazy about it. Maybe a lot crazy. In the years we’ve been married, we’ve bought two brand new homes – and promptly began remodeling them. That doesn’t even mention the two used homes we’ve bought. I’m not talking limiting ourselves to paint and wallpaper kinds of remodeling. I’m talking about moving walls and adding square footage.
Last October, we moved from our ‘country house’ (which was PERFECT when we left, so we had nothing left to do!) to a small fixer-upper in town. We’ve been non-stop ever since. There are three major projects left to do: the kitchen needs to be gutted and rebuilt, the basement needs to be finished, and the ONE bathroom needs a bunch of help.
It’s the bathroom we are currently working on. I probably need to explain that my husband is a meticulous, hard working and highly knowledgeable guy who, in my mind, knows how and does absolutely everything well. He is usually kind, usually mellow, and over the years has learned how to be a really funny man. He hates, however, plumbing. Hates it might not be strong enough. Maybe I should invent a new word that captures the depth and breadth of his loathing for plumbing. Especially re-plumbing something as old as a house built in 1923. So, this past weekend – our anniversary weekend, we began on the bathroom. First task: dismantle and cart away the old sink vanity and replace it with a nice, pretty, modern one. The old one was hand built, probably not the original, and whoever put it in was a decent carpenter but not so skilled at plumbing. (Did you notice the foreshadowing in that last sentence?) Before Karl even started, I teased him, “Now let’s do this without any surprises, ok?” He chuckled, knowing I was remembering our very first day in this house when he tapped on a main water pipe in the basement and it broke, pouring water by the gallon into the basement. He grabbed the pipe, trying to slow the flow and began screaming at me to “Go turn off the water!” but since we hadn’t even spent one night in that house, I didn’t know where the shut off was. I found it, but not before he was soaked to the skin and we had about two inches of water in the basement.
So, I felt justified in suggesting caution. I went downstairs to change the laundry as he began. He carefully turned off the water valves leading to the faucets, then unscrewed the hose leading to the cold. Water geyser-ed up from the rusted but seemingly closed valve and I heard two things simultaneously – water cascading upstairs and Karl screaming “Go turn off the water!” In the short time it took for me to accomplish my given task – remembering exactly where the valve was located – water was raining from the bathroom into the basement. That’s how the project began and it didn’t get much better.
We made three trips to Lowe’s for pieces and parts. He bumped his head in the cramped quarters of the tiny bathroom. Every fitting was stubborn and every original pipe fought him. Karl kept his patience and sense of humor throughout, until he got to the part where he had to hook the new sink to the new hoses. In a small space, locked into an impossible contortion. Let me end this little missive by just saying that Karl does everything with skill and finesse. That includes cussing. A. Blue. Streak.
But the new vanity looks great, and honestly, I think I fell in love with him just a little more. 🙂
