Before installing the furnishings, sink and toilet, the bathroom walls need preparation. Two walls are still cedar logs, lovely warm wood, but showing the effects of thirty years of use, especially the wrestling tournament developing from the removal of the old steel, and very stubborn, bathtub. Gloriously attired I assaulted the logs with a small palm sander on Saturday evening. After two hours work I assessed progress and realized I had started a 50 hour project. (I love math.) Downing tools I headed for the hardware store to obtain a box of "shock and awe." In four hours the walls were thoroughly cleansed, the marks of the tub removal now almost invisible, covered by the scars of my initiation to the mysteries of the belt sander. But I had the room painted and ready for the plumber on Tuesday afternoon
Our plumber, Dirk, approaches the household integration of water, plastic and metal as a philosophical exercise. He ponders the balance of nature and man, carefully considering the potential waywardness of water, the frailities of things and solutions appear moving one to cleanliness and control. At least most of the time.
The washstand and sink moved into the bathroom. Water lines came up through the floor. Drains were attached, the sink fitting I bought was wrong so back to the shop for the right piece. The shower clip arduously drilled into the ceramic tile (Dirk's memory of the right spot being far more accurate than mine) and shower taps installed. Dirk descended to the basement to finish the water supply and begin the flow of a bathroom's lifeblood. On my way out I happened past the bathroom and was surprised to see a thin stream of water spraying some 4 metres across the room and out the door. The cosmic forces seemed to be in disarray - I called down to shut off the water. It gradually subsided to a strangled drool. Dirk came up to see what I had done wrong but my alibi was established by the discovery of a faulty O-ring.
The rule of feng-shui was restored.