Floor Tiles, Luck and Providence

The new bathroom floor tiles come in 12-inch square sheets, with 36 small tiles on each. I wanted the tile to butt up nicely to the tub, so I started installing the tiles at the tub.

It's about six feet from the edge of the tub to the opposite wall, and in perfect world--which is a world that is kind to me, that looks out for me like a mother duck looks out for her ducklings, a world in which my coffee is always fresh and the dogs are happy to be with me and Cheryl is laughing, a world in which my mistakes are minor and I can correct them without anyone noticing, a world not free from tragedy (because that would be asking too much) but one in which tragedy always seems to skip past me--in such a world, the six sheets of tile would set down perfectly to the opposite wall with no necessary cuts on the tile saw.

The sheets of tile are not exactly 12 inches, and it's not exactly 6 feet to the wall, so I couldn't be sure if my guardian angel would be there for me. The floor tiles must fit under the wall tiles, which stick out about 1/4 inch from the wall. And since the little tiles on the sheet are about 2 inches wide, my chances of having a good fit, one arranged for me by providence, were about 12%. But to get a perfect fit, one in which the tile almost but not quite touches the wall, would be almost impossibly lucky.

And yet it happened.

Because I was tiling from right to left, I couldn't get to the section under the sink. I guess I could have suspended from the ceiling like spiderman, but I didn't want to push my luck.

Then I'll cut the final row of green wall tiles and it should look pretty nice. I'm a lucky guy.