There, I Fixed It: Revenge of the DIY
TinyHouse was built in 1941, which by American standards is quite old, and older houses are, shall we say, quirky.
In 1941, a built-in shower was not standard for a Sears catalog house, so our bathroom was clearly renovated at some point in the ensuing decades. We know this for multiple reasons: showers weren't standard then, while renovating we discovered that the paneled wall in our bedroom was nothing but paneling between it and the shower, and there is a window in the shower.
Yes, a window. When we bought the house ten years ago there was a little curtain hanging over the window, but it was dark and I liked the natural light in the bathroom, so we covered the glass with that privacy stick-on stuff and went about our showering business.
And lo, this year has been the Summer of the Rains, and everything that can get soggy has done so and then some, and the interior frame of the shower window started to look a bit bedraggled and finally began to get, well, mushy.
In order to prevent the damage from getting worse until he can replace the frame in our terribly convenient shower window, P decided to get another shower curtain and cut it down to fit the small window. Thus, yesterday he did so and all was well in ShowerLand.
The kids talked him into taking them back to the Shade festival for a while this morning, so I seized the opportunity to take a shower without my small Badger friend who cannot resist running water but issues strict edicts regarding the temperature and duration of showers, and who tends to throw bath toys at my feet. I hopped into a steamy shower, and it attacked me.
When P put in the little curtain, he forgot that one of the hallmarks of an effective shower curtain is that it has small weights in the bottom to resist the gale evidently kicked up by the flowing water. I slapped at the curtain, but if there is anything plastic likes more than wet skin I don't know what it is. I attempted to wash my hair one-handed while wrestling with the small curtain hell-bent on suffocating me. I impatiently tried to sweep the curtain aside, soggy window frame be damned, but P in his thoroughness has attached it in such a way that the outer rings are on the outside of the bracket, rendering it inoperable.
I attempted to stick the sides of the curtain to the wet tile on each side of the frame, but there is not enough curtain to do so for more than a few seconds. Just as you relax and think you have vanquished the enemy, the cushion of air pressure lurking behind it becomes too much for it to contain, and it billows forth with sentient plastic vengeance, seeking damp flesh to which it may adhere.
And then, dear reader, I got the giggles. So there I was, laughing hysterically while trying to rinse conditioner from my hair and beat the shower curtain into submission.
I will know if P reads this post, because he will quietly add binder clips to the lower edge of the curtain before he enters the fray; I will not, however, warn him first.
In 1941, a built-in shower was not standard for a Sears catalog house, so our bathroom was clearly renovated at some point in the ensuing decades. We know this for multiple reasons: showers weren't standard then, while renovating we discovered that the paneled wall in our bedroom was nothing but paneling between it and the shower, and there is a window in the shower.
Yes, a window. When we bought the house ten years ago there was a little curtain hanging over the window, but it was dark and I liked the natural light in the bathroom, so we covered the glass with that privacy stick-on stuff and went about our showering business.
And lo, this year has been the Summer of the Rains, and everything that can get soggy has done so and then some, and the interior frame of the shower window started to look a bit bedraggled and finally began to get, well, mushy.
In order to prevent the damage from getting worse until he can replace the frame in our terribly convenient shower window, P decided to get another shower curtain and cut it down to fit the small window. Thus, yesterday he did so and all was well in ShowerLand.
The kids talked him into taking them back to the Shade festival for a while this morning, so I seized the opportunity to take a shower without my small Badger friend who cannot resist running water but issues strict edicts regarding the temperature and duration of showers, and who tends to throw bath toys at my feet. I hopped into a steamy shower, and it attacked me.
When P put in the little curtain, he forgot that one of the hallmarks of an effective shower curtain is that it has small weights in the bottom to resist the gale evidently kicked up by the flowing water. I slapped at the curtain, but if there is anything plastic likes more than wet skin I don't know what it is. I attempted to wash my hair one-handed while wrestling with the small curtain hell-bent on suffocating me. I impatiently tried to sweep the curtain aside, soggy window frame be damned, but P in his thoroughness has attached it in such a way that the outer rings are on the outside of the bracket, rendering it inoperable.
I attempted to stick the sides of the curtain to the wet tile on each side of the frame, but there is not enough curtain to do so for more than a few seconds. Just as you relax and think you have vanquished the enemy, the cushion of air pressure lurking behind it becomes too much for it to contain, and it billows forth with sentient plastic vengeance, seeking damp flesh to which it may adhere.
And then, dear reader, I got the giggles. So there I was, laughing hysterically while trying to rinse conditioner from my hair and beat the shower curtain into submission.
I will know if P reads this post, because he will quietly add binder clips to the lower edge of the curtain before he enters the fray; I will not, however, warn him first.