Bath Remodel: Before and After.

The bathroom remodel took at least three times as long as it should have.
Possibly four.  Possibly nine.

My decision-making process was gruesomely slow and drove Paul to the brink of madness.

I mean that.  Not in an exaggerated way.  But in a very accurate way.  It made him crazy that he could not force me to pick a tile, a grout, lights, faucets, a sink, towel bars, a shower dial thing…

But?  In my quest for the perfect bathroom / making my husband crazy?  I win.


Totally DIY! Vintage-inspired bathroom remodel. We used subway tile, marble lookalike and designed a custom medicine cabinet.

Starting this bathroom renovation was a giant step forward.
AND a giant step backwards.

It meant we finally got rid of the totally gross old bathroom.
But it also meant another disaster right in the center of the house.

And it came at a time when I’D HAD ENOUGH.  Enough mess.  Enough disaster.  Enough of junk piled everywhere and plastic drop cloths and dirt.  Enough of feeling like this house had eaten my life and my husband and my sanity.

Not that it mattered.  Because when you’re living in a construction site, you don’t get to say—oh, la la la… no more mess today.  You do get to feel like your hair is on fire and your teeth are being electrocuted with stress and irritation– all of your own making.

That’s the bathroom, on the left.  I know.  Don’t be jealous.

Restoring our old Victorian house—before we started the bathroom remodel.

This?  This color/ mess/ disaster/ hovel… makes you kind of sad for me?

Well.  We lived with this for FAR longer than most people would tolerate.
Way, way, way longer.

That should imply that I am patient and above material comforts.  But instead means that I spent two years alternately lying on the floor in exhausted misery or cursing the delusion I had– of how we would move in and fix things in an organized and timely fashion.

A novice fantasy on my part– induced by blogs like Young House Love.  Where they are so fresh and cheerful and never coming to blows. Where there is no mention of how your house might actually kill you.

Our totally DIY bathroom remodel— vintage reproduction fixtures to complement our old house.

Our totally DIY bathroom remodel—DIY transom window and a large, custom medicine cabinet!

It took us two years to get to this bathroom… two years of constant, renovation-related chaos. Two years of never-ending projects and demolition and banging and scraping and ripping out and repairing and basically living in a dumpster.

Two years worth of indoctrination for me—into all of the ways I had failed to understand the meaning of construction.  And two years of indoctrination into how I married a machine.

Prior to this house, I had met Project Paul.  But I hadn’t comprehended the extent of his amazing superpower—where he goes and lives in an alternate universe known as Project Outer Space.

Where he wears a protective spacesuit that insulates against anything that distracts from his noble and unimpeachable pursuit to finish this house.

A logistical impasse for me…  Because when your project-partner claims for himself the mantle of irreproachable-construction-righteousness?  You get the other role: project-irritant-and-captain-of-work-stoppage.

A role I have played with undying fervor and dedication.  Never having a sick day or calling in my understudy.  I have been out there, onstage, every night without fail.  Whether the audience likes me or not.

Gutting our Victorian bathroom. A totally DIY remodel.

Vintage-inspired DIY bath remodel

It’s important to say that Paul wanted me to join him in his project spaceship.  In fact, there was nothing he wanted more.

But only if I sat quietly and did not ask to drive.

Plus, it was incredibly crowded with both of us in there.  Especially since I needed to bring so much stuff—all of my precise, exacting wishes.  All of my refusal to compromise.  All of my need for shiny fanciful things that I conjured out of my head without consideration of time/effort/feasibility/cost/practicality…

All of my endless indecision and endless research and endless debating and endless discussing…

All of my endless meticulousness requiring him to triangulate the alignment of the moon and the sun and the position of the toilet.

DIY bathroom remodel—how to design and built a transom window and a custom medicine cabinet!

Paul sees a project as a list, a layout, a timeline, an excel spreadsheet.
And I see it as a mystical destination to be arrived at by fairy dust and magic.

Mysteriously? This has not been a seamless working relationship.

It’s mysterious because I CANNOT UNDERSTAND how anyone fails to appreciate the necessity of fairy dust.

Original bathroom had toilet and sink on opposite walls. Window in shower. Rearranging a bathroom layout.

see our solution to the window in the shower here.

A month ago, when I wrote about our front porch stain debacle, I said that this house had killed my aesthetic martyr.  But in revisiting this bathroom renovation, I realize this was the specific project that did it.

I cared so much about every detail… and there were so many of them.
This bathroom, for me, brought out some kind of religious fervor…  An exhaustive dedication to my ideal design.

I spent entire months of my life immersed in tile. And grout.  And crown molding.  And toilets and sinks and faucets.  And searching for my ideal, giant medicine cabinet.  And then designing our own.

Victorian DIY bathroom remodel—we designed and built the transom window and a large, custom medicine cabinet!

In retrospect, the amount of time I spent thinking about marble vs. porcelain tile, and water shutoffs, and faucet handles… is utterly stupid.

Utterly. Stupid.

However, I have a high appreciation for my own stupidity.  Because now that it’s all over?  It kind of looks like it was worth it.

Renovating and designing old house bathroom. Subway tile, custom medicine cabinet, console sink, marble lookalike tile.

I love you, subway tile.  I love you, shiny porcelain. I love you, giant mirror.
  I love you, crown molding.  I love you, chrome.  I love you, transom window.

I love you heated floor. I love you, giant medicine cabinet.
  I love you faux marble tile that does not make me nine kinds of OCD.

I love you, bathroom.  I especially love that you are finished.

Totally DIY bathroom remodel— vintage reproduction fixtures to complement our old house.

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This bathroom is a most excellent example of what detail-determination can achieve. Even hinges on the door are amazing. Were those on the door, or is that a new door? I’ll be reading some of your links, especially since you found a faux marble tile which will undoubtedly serve you well, since when we remodeled our guest bath last year we used the real deal and it is already etched!(arggg). It’s such a bright and pretty space, well worth the 2 years of work. All that and a heated floor, wow!

Not to rush you, but what’s the next project on the horizon? 🙂

That’s one of the things I initially loved about this house—the hinges. The ones on the front door are huge and ornate. In retrospect, I should have been concerned about other things, but at the time they seemed like the greatest thing ever!!

We’re working in the basement right now… something I have no interest in blogging about since it’s just cleanup and whitewashing. As far as a big project, next is the kitchen. I told Paul I need him to work on other stuff right now. I really cannot handle a ripped apart kitchen right now. Especially going into the holidays. Maybe in a few months. Although, not that I’ll want it then, either!

I’m not sure there’s ever a good time to tear up a kitchen. I got so tired of living with plastic draping everywhere, a toaster oven and hot plate in the garage during our remodel.

VE – you are such a drama queen! This is a screenplay, I swear. The wordsmith you are, I can almost feel the tension in the air. But you know – after reading your posts – I kinda feel I’m missing something in my renovations. No pixie dust, no interplay of emotions over grout color. Perhaps because we’re not living in the renovation my wife is oblivious. maybe I should count my blessings? Wonderful post and beautiful bathroom.

Curt, you should count your blessings all day long. There is *nothing* my husband would appreciate more than a wife who simply appreciated the end product. It would be his dream come true. In fact, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t think that exists, or else he would definitely try to trade me in for one of the easier-going models!

I’m going to email you a story that will make you feel SO much better about your bathroom (which for the record looks pristine, new and SOOOOOO fantastic) that I cannot write on here for the fear of biting the hand that feeds, er, used to feed me. It involves the illusion of DIY blogs and taking very good photos that don’t necessarily tell the whole story of a reno. I’m getting hives just looking at the wood walls. I cry b/c we have a landing on the first floor of our home that has had plywood on it for over 2 years now b/c we said we’d fix it by Christmas the first year we moved in. Sad. Renos are so much harder than anyone ever admits. Especially in the plethora of “It’s so easy to…” blog statements on any major reno. No. No it’s not. That’s why there is a giant industry filled with people called contractors that make a living from doing this. Congrats on a DIY job well done!

Sigh. I so hear you with the plywood. You get used to the unfinished projects, and then once in a while you see it for what it really is… and it’s just exhausting.

I look at our kitchen (which is an utter nightmare) and I don’t even want a new one. I just want to leave it the way it is, because I think another project will push me over the edge.

I’m curious what your story is. Especially if it’s too scandalous for print. ☺

I love the custom medicine cabinet so much, but I’m afraid to click the link for fear of my next year being consumed recreating it in my bathroom. But knowing we want to knock down a bathroom wall, and knowing what could be, I suppose no pre-made cabinet will do now. Sigh.

If you have the skills/patience/madness to do it, I cannot endorse it enough. Especially with a big, shiny mirror. And even more especially if you’re rebuilding a wall anyway… it’s just wasted space, otherwise.

For us, this bath is on the smallish side, and capitalizing on storage space was crucial… To me. Paul would have been happy with ordering one from Home Depot.

Me too!! I’ve come to my transom obsession just since this bath remodel, and now that I’ve been bitten, I wish we had done it on all the doorways. It would have been a prohibitive amount of work, but the difference it makes in the brightness of the hallway is fantastic!!

They really do let SO much light in! I added a fixed one to my guestroom/hallway door, but now I am jealous of your operating transom…and I am thinking bad thoughts about changing mine to an operating one…Did you have a hard time finding the transom hardware? That’s what scared me out of the operating one in the first place.

There isn’t any. It’s hinged in the middle on some kind of pin, and Paul installed it so that it moves either direction, and somehow (magic?) stays where you put it. We put a small glass knob at the bottom to move it with. It’s an easy reach for the two of us, but if someone were petite, they’d need a hook.

In looking at buying hardware to do a traditional version, it started to seem unnecessary to us. Plus, aside from light, our goal was ventilating the room as much as possible, and being to open it all the way was better for us…

It’s a super hi-tech dowel. Just a piece of steel rod. That’s it. About 1.5” long, so that ¾” goes in the door frame and the other ¾” goes in the window frame. Drill out a hole to the width and depth of your dowel… on either side.

I did look at hardware online for a retractable pin on one side and a seat for it on the other side… but Paul’s design was the simpler (and cheaper). But if you’re dealing with an already existing frame, you’ll want to be able to mount the window without taking the doorframe apart.

Hopefully this makes sense. I’ll post some close-up photos in my next post. So you can get a better idea…

I’m just swooning loudly over your choice of shower faucet beauty. ***cue music*** We had to deal with a window in the shower too, eons ago and far, far away. Spousal Unit tiled beautifully in a massive, headache-inducing effort in which I helped not at all. I am inept.

I salute you and your Project Machine Man. You make this look insanely stupid – in a good way. 😉 Thank you for entertaining and educating on your journey!

Your comments always crack me up! Spousal units who tile are the best. Especially if they leave us out of it!

I am surprised how much I love the window in the shower. When we moved in, it was probably my biggest reservation about the house (ah, to be so naive ever again…) But I’ve really ended up loving it. In summer it’s like an outdoor shower… without the bugs.

LOVE LOVE LOVE it! What a huge transformation! Were you worried about storage? The craftsmanship of your house looks similar to ours and I’d love to do something similar in our bathroom, but we need storage because we have no other storage nearby.

Thank you! Your comment made me realize that I didn’t include a photo of the end of the tub… when we gutted the bath, we gained enough space to make a tall skinny shelving unit. It’s not large, but it holds a huge amount of the small stuff… soap, shampoo… I will include a photo in my next post.

Storage in old houses seems like a universal issue. For our house, in all the bedrooms, we built giant double-door closets. So we now actually have more storage than we need (although we certainly fill it with junk!) And I use one of the bedroom closets as a linen/winter clothes storage. It’s not the perfect solution, but for an old house, it’s pretty good.

oh okay that’s great! I bet if I cleaned my linen closet outside the bathroom, I’d find room for most of the stuff in the bathroom – reducing the need for storage in there… but hey, isn’t that what closets are best for… collecting junk!?

Your attention really paid off. I love the transom window over the door. I loved when these were standard in homes, it allows privacy and airflow at the same time through the house. Are you adding them to other doors or just the bathroom? I have to say the original bathroom (and hallway color) were awful!

That dead-salmon color? Was in the foyer, up the main stairwell, through the upstairs hallway, and up the stairwell to the attic. It was terrible to try to cover. Red/pink pigment just wants to live forever.

And the bathroom. Ugh. The design was terrible. The toilet and sink were on opposite walls. Not to mention just old and not maintained…

Had we done the bath first, I might have insisted on adding transoms to the other rooms. The light/airflow is fantastic… and I REALLY wish the bedrooms had them. But now that the second floor is done, there’s no way we’re doing more work to it.

What a shame you hadn’t thought of the transoms earlier. I wouldn’t start changing things now either. I can only imagine how hard that color was to cover, I had a deep dirty burgundy I had to cover up once. I started with a good primer, it was the only way.

Let me tell you how glad Paul is that we didn’t have to rip out all the doorways and rebuild them from scratch. I’m not even sure how I would have campaigned for that… Weapons would have been involved.

We should have bought stock in Kills primer before starting this house. I’m sure we’ve personally increased their value exponentially…

MY MY Elizabeth – Stunning. By the time I read down to your, I love you subway tile, I too was saying this along with you. It is gorgeous. I look forward to seeing the other details. Thanks for sharing! I very much enjoy your blog!

It’s so beautiful! I seriously LOVE that transom window. I think that should be a requirement in every house – for every bathroom.

I think bathrooms and kitchens literally KILL YOU because there are so many details and decisions to make in such a small space. They’re all expensive, time consuming, and anything that involves water doubles the frustration. I totally understand your fretting. Lets face it… it’s a desire to “get it right” so you don’t have to do it again for years and years. Hug yourself… and each other. YOU DID IT RIGHT! Really beautiful, Victoria. They say (whoever “they” is) that it’s like child birth… when it’s over you forget the pain and take one look at the project (you’ve given birth to) and you’re immediately in love… forgetting the mess, anxiety, and the few gray hairs that seemed to pop up during it all. (and just think…you don’t have to change diapers or send your bathroom to college!)

Our next project is the master bathroom (although it’s smaller than the guest bath) and I just can’t bring myself to start the drama. It sits with half the walls paneling, half the walls sheetrock, and a shower stall that is growing cobwebs because we’ve had to turn the water off because the fixtures are all leaking. It sounds like torture… and I feel like I need some serious therapy before I start another project that could lead to divorce. HA HA! (okay, I’m totally serious!).
But I have to admit your beautiful bathroom does give me hope and a little of that “oh, I need something that pretty”. So thanks for the eye candy. It’s fabulous!

How you feel about your bath is how I feel about our kitchen—our next big project. I do NOT want to start it. I don’t even care that it’s half ripped apart. I just cannot deal with another giant mess/disaster/out-of-control-project-with-no-end…

I want to do the kitchen completely differently than this bathroom. I want EVERY single decision made before we rip into it. I want to have learned enough from the experience of this entire house to make our next project efficient and not stressful. Is that even possible?

I cannot take another experience of Paul waiting on me to choose something… or running around like a crazy person trying to solve some unsolvable problem immediately… which all sounds like a good plan, but probably ultimately impossible.

I had gotten to the point of having forgotten the painful bath remodel… but blogging about it reminded me of how agonizing it was. And how dirty and exhausting. Not to mention more than a few grey hairs.

Loved this post! Possibly my favorite. I’m still in awe over how you take these home renovation struggles… and I completely understand how hard they are… and turn them into something lighthearted and fascinating and utterly entertaining!

We also gutted our bathroom. It’s a 1905 house, so I’m guessing it didn’t begin life as a bathroom. I’d also like to explain that it wasn’t precisely a working bathroom when we acquired the property in 2007. Nothing was up to code. The tub was up on blocks. The toilet was wedged into a corner. It was unusable.

We also went with white subway tile, kept the window in the shower, used synthetic granite, etc. But we paid other people to do it… because neither of us is a Victoria or Paul.

The bathroom is gorgeous! I will now spend time checking out those wonderful links!

Oh, other people’s agony is always fascinating. To me, anyway. It doesn’t even have to be well written. Paul and I could probably get our own reality show if we were willing to just roll on the floor clobbering each other with two-by-fours.

The reenactment sounds like I must be exaggerating, but hair-on-fire-irritation is actually scientifically accurate. I don’t know why I have funny things to say about it… it really isn’t funny at the time. AT ALL.

But, you know this… even if you didn’t do the work, you experienced the process. I’m surprised you didn’t keep the tub blocks. That’s so industrial chic. Plus, allows for easy cleaning under the bathtub!!

Well it looks incredible!! I’d never really considered all the tiny little details that go into making a bathroom. You’ve done an incredible job. It’s all so shiny, fresh and clean! And I love the way the mirror wraps around a corner over the medicine cabinet.
I hope you and Paul did some serious celebrating after this project was completed!

This is so SO pretty! I can’t get over how much bigger the room looks. You guys did an amazing job and the end result reflects both of your genius (or madness… I’m sure it sometimes feels like a REALLY fine line.) Thanks for including all the links too. I’ve missed so much!

When it was finished, I literally could not believe it was the same room. At all. Gutting it and removing the old bathroom underneath gained us something like 6” in width. That doesn’t sound like much, but apparently it is because the bathroom feels completely different.

Of course it also helped removing the obstacle course of sink and toilet being opposite of each other.

Love it, but then I knew you’d do something fantastic. And just think, you’ll never have to remodel it again.

We have to remodel our kitchen and two bathrooms. Even before I started reading your blog, I was very scared. Now I’m working my way toward terrified. I am very excited to see what you do with your kitchen.

I think terrified is a good place to start. That way it won’t be any worse than you’re expecting.

I am DREADING the kitchen. More than any other project we’ve done. Which is saying a lot. Even just trying to move forward with the design makes me want to lie down in exhaustion. The details are endless. I know I will love the end product, but getting there?? Not so much.

Looks stunning! So calming and clean, pristine! I am in awe and impressed, and can’t really even imagine all the decisions that went into these details.

Gotta know: Does your tool box include a pair of boxing gloves? 🙂

The bathroom is glorious! Love it! Love the clean, white surfaces and the fixtures. Been through it, too. I took the window out of the shower in my guest bathroom. Tiling it over brought me to hysteria and sobbing, which my sister witnessed one day. She helped me out of the bathtub and kept me from hurting myself. I never want to remodel a bathroom again.

Hysteria and sobbing. You understand, then.
It’s the sheer mess of it that overwhelms me. The pile of dirty rubble/tools piled everywhere right in the middle of everything makes me insane. Somehow Paul has the ability to tune it out… not that he doesn’t get frustrated, but he works through it. Whereas I end up crouched in a corner on the verge of some kind of breakdown.

It’s gorgeous! and

A logistical impasse for me. Because when your project-partner claims for himself the mantle of irreproachable-construction-righteousness? You get the other role: project-irritant-and-captain-of-work-stoppage.

This is the greatest metaphor! Love love it!
Ha! We’re doing our kitchen now. The bathroom is next. But we already have most of the stuff for the bathroom because I never want to be the captain of work stoppage!!!! No faucets yet though…

Here’s what I worry about — your medicine cabinet is gorgeous, but it has no doors. We have a floor to ceiling cabinet that could be transformed a la yours, but no doors (I took them off — they were shutters!) kind of scares me?

Sometimes I write something, and since I’ve been living with it, it doesn’t occur to me that it might require explanation! Now I realize the only photo I posted of the actual cabinet doesn’t show the door…

The cabinet’s door is the smaller mirror wall. If you look at the side that’s at a 90 degree angle to the sink, you can kind of see an outline in the white frame? That’s the door. It’s on hinges and has a small glass knob.

I both envy you for being in the midst of your kitchen. And dread it… doing a kitchen and bath back to back is far too much for me to handle!!

I did see that, but I didn’t put it together that it was the same cabinet. It is lovely. Now I’m going back to study the door again.

The other thing is we’re not living there full time, which is good when the stove is in the living room! But just working on weekends has its own set of problems…+ it’s an hour away, so no just dropping in to do something small.

Love your writing style!

I too find myself swept up in the constantly positive super perky upsides of DIY projects that Young House Love portrays. It makes me feel like a bad person when I’m cursing at my husband under my breath for getting mad at me for spending all day trying to find the right light fixture or making a mess with drywall all over the carpet. Glad to hear that I’m not the only one driven to near madness with every project, yet constantly being drawn back in to start another.

It’s like a public service I offer—the DIY antihero.

Also? Why are light fixtures SO hard to choose. And? What did people do before the Internet??? What did they do before they could search constantly, at all hours, for the one perfect elusive fixture.

I do think the attention to detail makes a huge difference in the end result. But sometimes I genuinely feel like it’s taken over my life—and that feels ridiculous.

That’s a beautiful bathroom remodel.

When I saw that big window, I was wondering if your bathroom was originally another room before it was converted into one.

I’m looking forward to your source post! And I love the dynamic between you and your hubs. I had the same dynamic with my GC for my 203(k) reno, but without the committed marriage relationship underneath. That may explain why he burned asphalt when he left the house today. 😉

LOL!! I wish there was a “like” button for comments.

I’m torn between thinking Paul would be more sympathetic to my quest for magic if I were paying him to fix this house. His personality is such that I suspect no amount of money would make him enjoy sharing this process with me.

Thank You! I saw that shower fixture in an old Victorian hotel… it blended in so perfectly with their vintage theme. It lived in my head for three years before we got around to our bath… it was literally the ONLY thing that did not make me crazy to pick out!

Hey Danielle,
I’m putting together a source list, and I still have to look up where I bought mine… and what I paid, but here is an Amazon link:

I didn’t pay that price, but I cannot remember what I did pay… also, I had wanted a different style handle:

For reasons I’ll explain in a post, I ended up with the lever… also, if you buy online, just be sure ALL the pieces you need are included… I saw some that were kind of deceptive in their description.

Best of luck with your project!!

Okay!! Thank you so much! I can’t wait to see all of your sources. Great job on your house thus far! It is beautiful and totally my style! I, too am having trouble picking a carrara tile that isn’t actual marble.. I would like tile placed diagonally, 18×18 square or larger honed with two rows of polished mosaics all in between. I saw this picture ( and it’s gorgeous! I love your pick though!! Thrilled to continue to follow your projects.

Umm? How is it that I missed using some floor jewelry? The small, pearly tiles in the pinterest photo are lovely!! That also looks like a nice honed tile… a lot of the honed options I looked at had a slightly textured surface, which I didn’t like. The one in the photo looks perfect… although I guess they don’t tell you the manufacturer.

Haha- I don’t know but trust me, yours is perfect. And yes, the tile is beautiful. No they don’t say what it is, but I’m sure it is the real thing anyway. Have not started my adventure to the tile stores yet..

Hey, I found you through the Homies and I have to say, I’m not so sure how we’ve survived this long without knowing about you and your blog/home/obsessive nature regarding hardware and finish selection. My wife and I are the exact same way. Renovations take exponentially longer than any normal person would feel is appropriate, and then it takes longer beyond that. We agonize over important stuff, like polished nickel vs chrome, and even more important stuff, like wondering if the grout caulk we used that was 1 shade lighter than our normal grout is too white and if it might cause visitors to think less of us as people. Ultimately, we just want a house that is comfortable, beautiful, better than anything we could have ever imagined, and induces jaw drops among our family and friends who can’t believe we’ve done these things ourselves, all for as little money as we feel like spending. Is that asking too much? I think not. Anyhow, we’ll be back often and will surely follow along on your adventure. As owners of an 1886-ish Victorian row house, we know your excitement. And as someone who has had a single room’s renovation take one, two, perhaps three plus years, we feel your pain. I’m glad we found your blog.

This comment made me feel calm. And normal. And absolutely JUSTIFIED. To have chosen to spend my time with Google, rather than real live people. Or dedicated to solving world hunger.

You are my soulmates. Or. You would be if I could get over my transom envy… I was enjoying your bedroom post… scrolling along… approving of your wall color and your cat… and then I was derailed by your transoms. The world is cruel. The internet always finds a way to show you the ONE thing you most want, and remind you of how if you’d just spent another year planning and looking and obsessing… you could have thought of it.

Also, I hate to tell you this: but we’ve all been snickering about your one-off grout shade. Such a shame.

Hi — we had an exchange about your fabulous toilet, yesterday. I’m the lady with the five kids. I forgot to mention that I homeschool, so they’re WITH me, all day long, every day. Forgive me for commenting on this post, and not continuing the conversation on the toilet post.
I want to just give you some love: A. Your writing is hilarious and great! B. When it comes to the curse of having an opinion, and not just AN opinion, but a STRONG one, about EVERYTHING, I feel your pain. I WISH I could just NOT care what the vanity looks like. I have many more important things to care about. Don’t worry, I even stronger opinions about those things, but oy! It makes life hard. I sympathize, sister! Okay — back to my life.

That’s quite an undertaking—homeschooling five! Your kids are incredibly lucky to have you!! (That’s the ultimate strong opinion. 🙂 )

I have been surprised by the depth of my caring about details… although I really shouldn’t have been, since like you point out—I have opinions about everything else, why not toilets as well…

Thanks for reading and commenting. And mostly for relating… having total strangers “get you” and find you funny is an unusually rewarding experience.

I came for the island and stayed for the bathroom.

During a ‘DIY kitchen island’ Google image search, a sad little island with shims and 2 x 4’s caught my eye (not in a good way…but I’m sure she has a great personality). Finally after clicking on a few of the pictured islands, curiosity got the better of me and I just had to see the creative force behind that ‘island beauty’. After clicking on her link, I had absolutely no clue what was going to happen next…Dant, dant, Dan-ta…I fell in love. Who would’da ever thought that while attempting to raise my building self esteem, I would find the bathroom of my dreams? Simply beautiful…LOVE LOVE LOVE every last detail. When we start our bathroom, I will be referring to your bathroom often (after we finish our kitchen…so in approximately 23 years, 7 months, 12 days, 9 hours and 52 minutes). Thanks for sharing! ADORE IT!!!!
Mary Kay

Your comment made me laugh so hard. I’m glad to know the island is a shining beacon of… something? Standing out from all the not-cobbled together countertops… setting itself apart from islands with same-size drawers and whatnot… I imagine we may still be debating kitchen layout by the time you’re done yours in the next century or so…

THANKS for the bath complements!!! I almost feel like we need to move again so I can do an entire bath, having ALREADY made every decision… it would be the ultimate luxury.

Hi, this is one lovely bathroom!!!! I love the tile, color of the wall, even the door and door knob. Medicine cabinet looks great, too. I have three small full 70s style bathroom to be remodeled in the future. They are all in different colors: one in calm pink/blue, one in yellow/blue, one in purple/blue. 🙂 For now, I have no idea where to start- we have recently bought this old house, maybe younger than yours.

I have recently joined your Blog and enjoy it a lot. Good luck to you and wish me good luck too. 🙂

P.S) Can I ask what color is it? the pale yellow on your bathroom wall? We painted my boys room with similar color though.

Hey, thanks! Nice to “meet” you!
Paint is Behr… I think it’s “eggnog” but we don’t have an empty can in the house so it could be eggshell? Or something egg-related.

You have my full sympathy for going into three bath remodels… ugh. Hopefully the first one will be duplicated with fixtures/style, so you don’t have to choose three different tiles/styles/designs!! Good luck!! There really is nothing nicer than a brand new bathroom!

OMG, I am just discovering your blog. Your bathroom renovation is BEAUTIFUL! I love your house. I live in a Queen Anne Victorian Brownstone that I bought after it had been vacant for 12 years. You can imagine my renovation nightmares…LOL

Oh… I can IMAGINE!
Also, I was going to comment on another of your posts, but I have to figure out how to edit my name… I was going to tell you on your faux-wedding post that I once referenced someone that had a less than ZERO chance of reading what I said about them… and they found my blog a few weeks later… I have no idea if they read that specific thing, but still.

wow, so so pretty and clean looking! I understand you on the procrastination – when I was pregnant with my oldest we tore out the carpet to lay our own hardwoods on the entire first floor and it took us a year!!! it was almost the death of our marriage! lol.
pinning now and sharing on FB next week.
Thanks so much for linking up in support of Habitat! Good luck and hope to see you back next week.

I love the bathroom!! We have a 1920s house with an incredibly small bathroom that we have repainted three times in six months! We’re still not happy with it, and it’s driving me insane. Actually, so is the rest of the house. I’m hoping your blog posts will inspire me!

I cannot tell you how happy this post has made me. It was as if you had transported yourself on your magic unicorn and come to my house to witness how it is…really is!! I loved you before but I ADORE you now. I think this statement will possibly make you as happy as I am right now. I have copied this post and am sending it to my Dan who is residing in Project Outerspace as I write this. He will likely read this and then I will be transported into Project Doghouse. Sigh. My work is never done. Know that I am watching and learning. In short you are my hero!

Without success, I’ve scoured your blog for which exact subway tile you used in your bathroom. Can you please share?

Loews… it was the only shade that went with all three totally different whites of the tub, toilet, and sink. I looked at ones with fancier molding, but in the end hated that they were so noticeably different from the fixtures.

When I initially commented I clicked the “Notify me when new comments are added” checkbox
and now each time a comment is added I get several emails with the samee comment.
Is there any way you can remove people from that service?
Appreciate it!

Hi, I don’t know why you would get multiple emails… But this tech stuff is really beyond my understanding!!!

You SHOULD get two responses notifying you of THIS comment. One will be a “comment reply notification.” That is a plug-in that I use specific only to my own comments. You cannot unsubscribe from that one.

However, you should also get an email from WordPress, (that is the service that you subscribed to). And in that email, you should be able to unsubscribe. (I have no control over that.)

Also, just to be sure, are you sure this is the post you are getting comments on? It doesn’t look like anyone has commented recently… And I assume that you were prompted to ask about being removed because of something recent?

Hey! I’m new to your blog. And have to tell you that I’ve married another creature from Project Outer Space. He has his own spacesuit and spaceship. And while our house isn’t as old, it was… bad need of renovation. That we are tackling one project at a time. Slowly. Very slowly. I seem to have lost my pot of fairy dust, though…being lost in space as I am.