Back in the Saddle Again

My project manager called me into her office this morning and gave me the evil eye, you know, like she just now discovered that I haven't worked on a project since before my surgery, over six months ago. Never mind that she, too, hasn't done a thing since then. But management must have its drama, so the eye fixed on me to come up with an explanation.

Before I could respond, she arranged several photos on the desk, staring at me again in silence to let the awful truth sink in with its own weight. Yes, the guest bathroom needs a makeover, but...

Yes, the tiles are cracked. The toilet is inches from the wall. A old metal heater grill is on one side and it bangs back and forth if you happen to brush against it.

The floor tiles are cracked right through the center of the room. The shower tiles are hanging together only through force of habit. They're cracked, infused with putty and years of cosmetic repair, cracked again, fixed again, so sad that I can't bare even to show the pictures here.

I'm stalling now as Willow stares at me. I'm hoping to find some new excuse, some alternate plan, some way to avoid this total destruction of the original.

But she brings out more pictures. The old porcelain fixtures, cute in their day, are mostly all broken now, sad, tragic, because they are all original to the house.

And not just the tiles. The window frame shows water damage. (Whose duck is that, anyway? Not mine.) Some structural repair will be required, but only after the entire thing is gutted.

Gutted? I'm getting ill now and I turn around, but Willow is not going for it. OK, then! Tomorrow I'll visit Home Depot and get some books. Then I'll come up with a plan. And an estimate. How long will the whole thing take? she asks without skipping a beat. Don't even think about it.

I'm back in the saddle again.