Everything seems to be working. I wanted to document it with photos, but Lindz resisted that idea. She locked the bathroom door and wouldn't let me in with the camera.
It was a hell of a lot of work. We could have taken shortcuts. I remember what my late paternal grandfather used to say about this sort of thing. He'd tell me, in his singsong Italian accent, "Well, eef you're gonna beeld a-sometheenk, eet might as well really be a-sometheenk."*
It seemed strange going into the master bathroom with the intention of showering, just as it would seem strange to go into the pantry with that intention. For such a long time, it has been a place of work, not of bathing.
*My grandpa never really said this, nor did he have an exaggerated Italian accent.
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