
Before we were living out of a bathroom suitcase, we were living the high life with five shower spigots, room to jump and play, and a see-through door that provides orientation and shower-exit ease. I can go on and on about

On May 24th, early in the morning, I stumbled upon bright orange moss and a tiny mushroom growing out of the baseboard trim to the right of the master bath shower. I was confused and stunned. I screamed! Our bathroom was under attack and living spores were marching to battle in our safety bathroom zone. Mr. Husband rushed in to save me from what was surely a monster of mythic proportions. As I stood there stunned, Mr. Husband annihilated the foe by wiping away the devilish fungus with a piece of toilet paper. Maybe he used 3-4 squares. It was quite a battle. And, me, totally in shock at the beast that had invaded our happy bathroom zone—I did not take a photo. Ah, but the image of the fiend is seared upon my mind. I see the orange and mushroomy shroom imprinted on the back of my eyelids.

Scarred I was. The sanctity of our shower zone had been defiled. Something was very wrong with our get-clean sacred space. It was dirty. It was damp. It was growing things. Ew.
Mr. Husband took the reins and vowed to rid our happy home of this intruder. It took him over 18 phone calls and 12 emails and almost a month and a half to see victory and have shower calm restored to our kingdom. The first step that the builder and his team of sometimes qualified and oftentimes unqualified soldiers did to investigate was to remove the baseboards from the master bath crapper. From the toilet bowl

They rebuilt our shower four times. FOUR times. Each time, they located a new problem.

The builder brought with him a thick layer of dust everywhere. The dust from constructing and reconstructing and reconstructing again and again our dear shower did not contain itself to master bath and bedroom—it covers our

living room floors and our kitchen counters. It crawled all over our home as a mocking reminder of the master bath shower fate. We will probably have to hire someone to clean the mess—I am not skilled enough at cleaning to tackle this job. Everything we touch has that slightly gritty feel of tile shavings and wood and grout.
And the end result? Marvelous. We were patient while the building and rebuilding continued. The shower experiment had to come to an end some day. We were fortunate to have a second bathroom and that we didn’t have to use the kitchen sink. If there were size issues in shoving Mr. Husband’s 6’7” frame in the guest bathroom shower, there are definite size problems in getting him clean from the kitchen sink. Of that, I am certain.
The builder tiled the shower all the way up the ceiling.


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