I’m realising that there’s an ever-growing category of things that cause a great deal of strife but which nobody ever warns you about. These are things that are extremely mundane and commonplace, like filing taxes, writing Christmas cards to in-laws, using a ladder… you get the idea. Anyway, I’ve discovered a new one: having a new bathroom installed.
Why, I ask, was the stressful nature of this undertaking never imparted to me? I mean, I get that my parents probably had bigger fish to fry, but surely a considerate aunt or uncle could have chimed in with a warning about the perils in store. It’s been a good three months now, with life revolving around the bathroom makeover. First it was talking about it, then it was figuring out how to pay for it, and now it’s dealing with not having a bathroom for a week.
It all started with hubby insisting that we scope out every bathroom renovations company Melbourne has to offer, no matter their price point or the nature of their online reviews. That all proved to be a waste of time, as they all just said the same thing on the phone, more or less. After devoting hours to that activity, we essentially chose one at random and went with that. Fortunately, I have no complaints so far.
At least, I don’t have any complaints about the quality of the work. I do, however, have complaints about the disruptiveness of the whole thing. I’ve spent the week using a port-a-loo and the showers at the gym, and it’s starting to wear pretty thin. I feel like it would have been fine, though, if I’d only known this was how it would be. My expectations were not managed by the caregivers of my youth.
Honestly, how hard would it be to run a series of classes on things like shower grout repair, mandatory for all high school students? Sure, it’s not exactly rocket science, but maybe we’d have fewer supposed grown-ups going around resenting the fact that certain skills expected of us were never handed down.