For Ellen, to resolve the orientation.
Standing in the living room, looking through "the little hall" into the bathroom.
Boys! I spent plenty of time moving their stuff to make a path into my room, on the left.
OK. All I'm showing you is today. Day twelve!
Sean by the window, fooling with sink plumbing.
The sink is in the shower.
The shower door directions are in Eric's hands.
Don't miss the cubbies on the right of the shower.
They are the only storage in the entire 6'x8' bathroom.
Twelve of them, floor to ceiling.
The canvas totes to hold bathroom detritus are due any day.
The sink is on the vanity; we have water.
Up front, Eric has some of the door frame installed.
We have shower doors.
A little piece of construction magic that fascinates me.
Eric holds the molding inside out against the wall,
makes a mark, makes a cut,
And has right angle molding, like on the other side of the shower.
Inside the shower. You've seen this before, but not with the doors on. Changes all the angles.
I had a chat at supper with the two lovely young ladies who brush their teeth at this sink.
It is not necessary to look in the mirror to brush one's teeth,
and the grandma expects to see no more toothpaste splattered on the wall.
Finally, they were done.
Wonderful men; fabulous work.
My turn to putz.
Sheers, and reclaimed curtains I wove fifteen years ago,
for the old bathroom door that had a window.
I cut these down.
Lots of treasures.
Split oak wastebasket came from a show in Illinois.
Old couple, he ran the machine to split the staves and she wove the baskets.
This clock was in my kitchen in Mentor; I've had it since the late seventies.
It has no glass.
Every grandchild has removed its hands at least once.
Most left them on back of the toilet, but some put them in the wastebasket, so I wouldn't notice.
The beadboard behind the toilet goes to the ceiling. My only statement.
The purple tank topper is a sample Beth made for a rug she wove many of.
The pattern is dog paw; though we affectionately called it puppy toes.
The toilet paper holder came from an art show in Virginia, the first time the grandchildren lived with us. Becca twisted my matchy, matchy brass tp holder until it broke.
This one spoke to me, so I bought it.
Tomorrow two bucolic water colors by a friend go on the wall, and that's all.
I'm too tired add one more thing tonight.