Crappy jobs.

The weirdest thing occurred to me last night as I was telling a friend I was spur of the moment ripping tile out of my bathroom... I learned that some people actually (wait for it) PLAN their home renovations.

Which just sounds totally foreign to me.

I mean I have been dreaming about redoing my upstairs bathroom since before even signing the closing papers (I mean, pale green floors, really?) But it was functioning, therefore the least of my worries. At some point during the HJ era we bought quick-fix peel and stick tiles and I redid that in some fit of "I don't need you, you cheating asshole" rage after we broke up. (This story is getting dramatic quick).

Everything was fine and dandy in a 'god I still hate this floor, and this toilet has been unlevel since I bought the house' kind of way until I realized my bathroom starting to smell last week. Which made my dad laugh in a "damnit, I've been saying for three years we would need to redo that bathroom and rip out the subflooring because your toilet is unlevel so naturally it probably has leaked' kind of way. And so we both shrugged it off because DAMNIT three years of tearing up my house is TOO DANG MANY!

And then yesterday, prompted by an impending house guest next week, I decided 'hey, what better time?!'

I conspired with my mom how to trick my dad into coming over to help me work on my house yet again. By 8pm we had removed the toilet, sink, vanity, a layer of tile and a layer of subflooring, and called it a night.

The saddest part of this whole story was that the only thing I really did was shut off the water main and drain the toilet.... and pull up tiles. Me and crowbars and upper arm strength just don't really mesh well.

THANKS DADDY! 

(And no, I have no clue what flooring I'll be putting down, nor what sink/vanity I will be replacing the old one with. So there's that.)