Progress

I have added comments to the blog. These would have been here at least a week ago, but HTML continues to baffle me. I guess I need to read the directions. I hope this doesn't shatter my reputation with my lovely wife. Over the years I have trained her to act as if she believes I can do anything with little or no instruction. She has become a gifted actress. I'm even beginning to believe it. And now this ... HTML.

Today is part two of Repair the Bath. Our daughter turned sweet 16 over a month ago. She still has not had her party. This vanity replacement (the bathroom's, not the daughter's) and general rehabbing is part of her gift. For her entire life she has had no drawers to put her stuff in behind the vanity front.

Lavatory storage has been primitive. It's been cardboard boxes heaped with things. Almost invariably, the item one was seeking had somehow burrowed its way to the bottom of the box it was in. But this is the dawning of a new day for our sweet daughter. Her new setup will have only one sink (more temporarily open space on a horizontal plane), two doors (the better to hide your dustbin, my dearie), and six--count 'em--six drawers. She'll think she's died and gone to Purgatory. Not quite Heaven, but the sort of place one ends up on the way. Not worse, but at least different.

The craftsmanship of the work being done is highly questionable. It's the converse of my bride's trips to shop. "Honey, it was on sale. Add it up. See what we've saved?!" In this case it's, "Honey, I did it myself. You know the bid we got for this work. Think of the money we've saved! And if you want it to look as if it's done well, you just press this switch down and wait for your pupils to dilate."

So today will be a thriller. Two Hoosiers rehabbing an indoor privy. It already sounds like the beginning of a bad joke told with relish by either a Buckeye or a Kentuckian. In fact, the forebears of both craftsmen were Kentuckians, so the work will run long on practicality even if it is lacking polish. I just wish I'd had the foresight to stock up on chewing gum, baling wire, and a discarded tire or two. It's amazing what a fellow on a mission can do with the right raw material.