When I decide to do something, I do that thing, and I do the hell out of it.
As previously mentioned, I’ve been taking a lot of baths lately, and have been increasingly discontented with The Shower Door Situation. I suspect this is somewhat of a religious debate – the shower door lovers v. the shower curtain lovers – and I come down firmly, resolutely, upon the curtain side. They’re softer, prettier and less intrusive. Shower doors are noisy, usually unattractive, make it harder to clean the tub and make bathing the dogs nearly impossible. One cannot sit on the edge of the tub to shave one’s legs or soak one’s feet. There was no room for a refreshing beverage to my left.
Well. I’d had it.
Tonight, we bought a shower curtain rod and I was off to the races. I went after that sucker with a drill and a knife and 20 minutes later, it was out.
Ugh. I am so not a brass/gold person – I like nickel, bronze and silver.
Ahhh. So much better, right? Roomier, more open.
We’ll address the pink and blue paint (with matching floral border) in a future home renovation frenzy. Also, pretend I remembered to move all the stuff off the shelf at the left.
There were some epically grody bits:
I was left with a metric honkload of caulk and adhesive lying around, so I went at it with a will.
An Elegy for a Knife, & a Way of Life
That knife has served me so well over the years – I am a die-hard Gerber knife woman. When one makes one’s living working outside, as I did at Wolf Haven and the alpaca ranch, a good knife is key. That knife has helped me butcher deer for wolves, hack through all manner of rope and twine, opened many a box at the motorcycle store, cut and slice through things it was never meant to be near, gone through the washer a dozen times, and I’ve never once sharpened it. It could use a little sharpening now, though, but it did really well on the caulk (and on some of the tub itself, oops. I don’t recommend this shower-door-removal process unless you someday plan to replace the tub itself, or don’t mind scrapes and holes in your existing tub.)
There was a long time when I was never without that knife. But as my jobs have become decreasingly outdoorsy, the knife started staying behind. The other day, a co-worker asked me if I had a knife. “Um,” I said, my hand reflexively reaching for my right back pocket, even knowing it wasn’t there, “sorry.” I’ve been carrying it since then, but it’s largely unnecessary. Alas.
Meanwhile, back at the tub.
I figured it would smell, but I was wholly unprepared for what it smelled like. It smelled like feet.
Feet that had been cooped up in wet old boots for a month.
Feet that hadn’t been bathed in a century.
Let us speak no more of that unpleasantness.
On a wholly unrelated note, the guy who taught me how to shoot (formerly a drill sergeant in the Marine Corps, now a Leather Daddy in Seattle) would be so proud: I keep my finger off the trigger – even when that trigger is on a power drill.
There’s still a bunch of caulk remnants that will never come off, and mildew that will require Much Scrubbing, but the awful doors are gone.
Also, I can’t find my damn outer shower curtain. I looked everywhere, emptied out every box in the basement, pawed through closets, nothing. I love that curtain – white with embroidered leaves and neat latticework at the top. That bugs me. Ah well.
Fortunately, Mike Neir had some shower curtain hooks. They have little bearings on the top, where they run along the rod. I can totally see Mike picking these out, thinking, “hey, I bet these will really make it easy to draw the curtain back and forth efficiently!”
I also took the opportunity to implement my favorite bathtub hack – flipping the overflow drain over, so I get a couple more inches of water to hang out in the tub. It’s a quick and easy thing to do, but also requires the flipper thingie to be upside-down and operate so that down is closed, up is open. I can live with that if I get three more inches of hot water.
And now, I am off to scrub the foot unpleasant smell off the edges so I may bask in the new tub – even though I am out of Epsom salt, boo.