I'm not taking this sitting down
Posted by Dennis Anderson on Nov 28th, 2006
So much for the guy who said a man’s home is his castle, for I have been dethroned.
My wife Julie and I have the master bathroom we’ve always dreamed we’d have. But one year after moving into our new home, it appears my vision was sadly not hers. The spacious room features a large shower, double sinks, a walk-in closet — for Julie, of course — and a whirlpool for two.
After moving in, she wasted no time decorating the master bath, painting the walls in a sponge motif in burnt umber (I call it brown), draping a sheer curtain to separate the whirlpool from the toilet, hanging a candelabra from the ceiling, and adding a small shelf for cascading greenery and to display a tiny painting of a scene in Italy, the country of her heritage.
For a bathroom, it’s rather romantic, yet not in a frilly way. I dug it, too, and longed to make it a room we could share. It also has produced many oohs and aahs from visitors when Julie takes them on a tour of our home.
Yet, I’ve been banished from the room for all chores but for showering and brushing my teeth. Do the math.
It was a gradual exile, starting with Julie rearranging the master bedroom to limit her sight line from our bed to the bathroom, which used to be set up with a view directly onto the toilet.
You see, I’m not one to close the door when I’m using the bathroom. That was strike one.
Now, the bed is set up along another wall, with no view of the bathroom.
The rearrangement was only a temporary fix. While Julie couldn’t see my business, I now had a clear view to the TV perched atop my armoire. I began to linger in the bathroom, which led to the next dilemma.
Just because you can’t see the problem, doesn’t mean it’s gone. It was a predicament even a lit Meadow Mist Yankee Candle couldn’t solve. Strike two.
My queen requested of me that I use the boys’ bathroom down the hall. It’s a place reeking of Axe deodorant spray and dozens of toothpaste boogers in the sink. And there’s no view of a TV on which to catch scores on SportsCenter.
Now, when toweling off after a shower, again, one of the few opportunities to use the master bath, I’ll look around the beautiful room and think about what might have been.
Then I’ll be jarred back to reality by these words, “Close the door, please!”
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