Sorry about the lateness of the posting today, the Prime Geek and myself are battling through a cloud of dust and debris and it was frankly only about five minutes ago I located my laptop in the upheaval. To explain – while my mother has always tended towards Christmas gifts with bows and paper clinging to their side, daddy1 dear goes for gifts with a bit more oomph. They might be odd, they may take a few moments of blinking to get your head around... but they are gonna be good. These gifts will also be guaranteed to not have been purchased in anything resembling a mall. Dad went into one of those “dread halls of the damned” once back in the 80's, and he still swears to this day that not one thing in his years as a Marine pilot come even close to the horror he experienced within its doors2. To this end, our present this year from my father was a joint one for the Nerdly Nest. Rather then more DVD's, or electrical gadgets designed to amuse and enthrall... he's giving us a bathroom.
Well. A bathroom floor, a new toilet, several days of backbreaking work3, and the ability for us to use the money we had set aside for the toilet as payment for a new vanity and sink. We replaced the shower head and faucet earlier this year... now all will be new except the tub.
Step by step, we are reclaiming our home from the thrall of some truly moronic previous owners. Each time a new job is contemplated the utter stupidity and short shift manner of “fixing” it before makes me wonder if they truly were tool using mammals. Dealing with the moronic manner the chimney was covered was haunting enough, but the nightmare PG and dad are facing at the moment makes me seriously wonder if the folks before us had opposable thumbs.
For months we have been tiptoeing around the bathroom situation. Honestly, I think we were both hoping that brownies would wander in one night and fix it for us. Several distressingly “squishy” spots in the floor, a mystery brown seepage that leaked up towards the light over night, and a smell that, at times, made me forsake my green leanings and reach for some high powered chemicals. In the last month we were reduced to cutting rubber mats to size to slide under the bath rugs if we wished to sit without fear of ooze. The Prime Geek even confessed to foregoing using his own homes toilet for any... deep thoughts, instead waiting until he got to work – or heading down the road to his parents house.
Enter my father, and the dream of a bathroom where one can read in comfort.4 The next few days until the New Year will find us battling this personal Golgathum. I'll keep you posted (and tomorrow we're back to the actual Naturally Nerdy lifestyle. Just let me get this toilet out of my livingroom!).
1Yes. I call my father daddy. I'm half southern. Deal.
2I come by my own personal distaste of the mall quite honestly.
3Before the PG chimes in with a nasty note, I'll come clean. Hard backbreaking work done by my father and the PG. So far my job has been to keep my mother as far from the house as possible so they can be free to, well, express themselves fully as they wrestle with a job worth of the labors of Hercules. Still a tough gig for me... but I'm not the one sweating bullets.
4We all have our own versions of bliss. Is it so wrong mine includes plenty of soft tp, good reading light, and a large selection of novels?