Sunday, August 20, 2017

guest bathroom round one: the vanity

Greetings! I've been absent. During that absence, I switched my e-mail subscriptions over to Mailchimp, and I don't know if those apes will successfully deliver this post. To anyone. Ever. Let me know, will ya?

In the meantime, I'll endeavor to write a read-worthy post and pretend there is someone out there who will at least take a peek. Otherwise, what's the point?

We've been living in our new home nearly four years now, and our guest bathroom is still unfinished. While that might sound like a terrible inconvenience, no one really likes us enough to want to be our guest in the first place. Probably because we make you bring your own beer, wine, and food, and insist you bring us a supply as well. (I like any Sauvignon Blanc as well as Apothic Dark for future reference.)

Or, perhaps it's because Gracie refers to the guest bathroom as "The Room Where Dad Poops Every Morning." 

That's right. There's a toilet, but unless you want to wash your hands in the bathtub (or in the toilet you just defiled), you must find an alternative soap-and-water source.

So, why does Philly poop here instead of in our beautiful master bath? It's simple. There are two creatures indigenous to this particular bathroom that are terribly important to his "process." 

First? The Squatty Potty (or, as I call it, the poop stool--which is a bit redundant and makes me giggle). Second is Mr. Kindle, upon which Philly ruthlessly battles Spider Solitaire while taking care of business.

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