If a Man’s Home is his Castle, why did he pick the toilet as his Throne?

Birds do it. Bees do it and, yes my brother can personally confirm that even the bears in the woods do it.

Now before your mind sinks any further into the gutter, let me just say I was talking about pottying. Not potting as my iMac keeps trying to correct, cuz that would just be weird. They are not the Lorax, after all.

But I’m slightly off topic.

There came a time, 29 years after our house was built, that all good things must come to an end and so it was with the outdated bathroom.

It started with a flathead screwdriver to remove most of the floor tile then leapt up to a pry bar and hammer because some things don’t want to move.


Lovely vintage 1980s bathroom. The mirror broke in two big pieces because someone had used liquid nail to keep it up. Lots of giant black boogers clinging to the wall and a few soul searches on google to see if we could get them off without stripping out the drywall. Oddly enough, so much time had gone by  we were able to flake off most of it.

The toilet was an easy removal but alas the shut off valve under the sink wouldn’t turn, not even a bit and so the sink sat there until we could call upon our friendly neighbor, who happened to be a plumber.

While waiting, we tackled the tile on the walls. The came off easy enough with a screwdriver, but then we noticed the cement board underneath.

According to the internet, this was good. See you could just unscrew/pick out the nails and the board and tiles would just come off. Easy peasy. Right. Apparently the lying two-faced fatheads didn’t know the lunatics that installed the tile in our bathroom. You see the sadistic puppies layered on 3/4 of a inch of cement onto chicken wire that had been attached to the wall by no less than one million staples (slight exaggeration, I think it was only 999,999 staples).

Of course to find this out, my husband and I pounded on the wall with hammers to the laughter of the tilers. Finally, I brought out the sledge hammer and swung for the bleachers.

Pictures flew off the while. I’m not sure where the covering for the doorbell ringer is. The dog hid under the desk for days. And the cats gathered together in my office to see if the time was ripe for a household coup.

Then my loving, nearly departed husband asked at me to stop because I was gonna destroy the drywall behind the cement board. I’m not sure if it was the tick, the foam in my mouth or the glint in my eye but a heartbeat later he said to continue. I managed to pull one end of the chicken wire down

And this is when we learned the truth of the matter.

For the cruel pleasure of it, the demon tilers staggered said chicken wire so the edges met somewhere along the back of the shower stall not in the corners. With the help of pruning sheers, we cut, pulled and swore at the thing until we pulled it free. I could have wrestled with a sabertooth tiger and had less scratches.

The next day, we finished with Nick swinging the sledge hammer. We trimmed up the edges of the drywall, then took out the tub.

The plumber came over while I went to the chocolate affaire. He, my husband and son moved our brand spanking new cast iron tub into the bathroom and set it in place. Easy, right? No, there was a difference in the drain levels so he had to chip out the concrete and set new stuff. Took him about 4 hours.


He also replaced the shutoff valves, so we were able to remove the sink.

Then the new tilers came and began work on installing the new stuff.

Three days later, this is what we had:


OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAWe thought about installing the sink that we picked out but realized it wouldn’t fit. Worse, our plumber informed us that it wouldn’t be up to code as the vanity would be too close to the toilet.

And so began our search for a 42″ vanity. Which I found online and ordered, but it’ll take 5 weeks to arrive, apparently the tree isn’t tall enough to chop down yet. So for now, I have a bathroom with a toilet and shower but no sink.

Stayed tuned for more of our game of Thrones and the pics of the final, finished bathroom in 4 weeks, 3 days and 6 hours. Not that I’m counting…

About Linda Andrews

Linda Andrews lives with her husband and three children in Phoenix, Arizona. When she announced to her family that her paranormal romance was to be published, her sister pronounce: "What else would she write? She’s never been normal." All kidding aside, writing has become a surprising passion. So just how did a scientist start to write paranormal romances? What other option is there when you’re married to romantic man and live in a haunted house? If you’ve enjoyed her stories or want to share your own paranormal experience feel free to email the author at www.lindaandrews.net She’d love to hear from you.
This entry was posted in Life Observations and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to If a Man’s Home is his Castle, why did he pick the toilet as his Throne?

  1. danrshaw says:

    It’s our throne because everyone is afraid to approach us while seated on it.
    “I’m not sure if it was the tick, the foam in my mouth or the glint in my eye but a heartbeat later he said to continue”, it wasn’t any of those things. It was the sledgehammer in your hands that cause him to rethink his words. (he’s a wise man)
    You don’t need a sink. Just dual purpose the toilet?

    • There is truth in what you say, Yoda. I have yet to meet a fart fan that could compete.

      Maybe it was the sledge hammer, but he was too far back to hit (not that I would;)) He moves pretty fast and I would have had to climb out of the tub and quicksand of tiles that was devouring my ankles.

      As for repurposing the toilet… Eww! They use the tub.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s