Bathroom. While hubby and I were on a much-needed adult vacation, I received a text from my mom: "Minor flood in bathroom, need number of plumber and insurance." Um, OK. The minor flood ran into the TV room, buckled the parquet floor and threatened to do some serious damage. The TV room is next to the kitchen. So my mind immediately started to wander. Maybe the damage will be so severe we will have to demolish the room? Maybe it will damage the wall next to the kitchen? Now I will admit, we were at an all-inclusive resort, so while all the flood-plumber-insurance calls and texts were going on, we were a little under the influence. The Stoli Oranj fueled some pretty vivid kitchen fantasy talk. It probably didn't help that we were with my sister-in-law and her husband, who's a contractor. So yes, he's a pro.
Upon our return, we discovered the damage wasn't as total as we had thought - or perhaps hoped. Our insurance settlement was generous, allowing us to replace the floor. And then it started. Hey, we thought, we have some money left over - maybe we should go ahead and redo the very unattractive bathroom. (It has a weird built-in shower that in 5 years none of us have ever used. There is no towel bar. And the only storage is a strange built-in cabinet on the side next to the toilet.)
And then the other shoe dropped. My fantasies were launched by none other than my father, who decreed that it was time to finally do something about the kitchen. The kitchen that three of us can't stand in and get coffee at one time. The kitchen that barely allows us to have a decent dinner (and still requires us to make half of it in the dining room). And forget cocktail hour - that requires a virtual synchronized swimming routine to prepare drinks and appetizers. After all, my dad said, if we're doing two rooms, what's one more? Oh boy.
I can absolutely picture daddy saying that.
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