THIS IS THE EASIEST RENOVATION I ever lived through. More accurately, the gut job on my cottage bathroom in East Hampton is the first renovation I ever didn’t live through, the first time I’ve had the luxury to be elsewhere while dirt, noise, and inconvenience were taking place.
I’m hours away in Brooklyn, while Miguel, the contractor/carpenter/ tile guy, and Charles, the plumber, both of whom I trust implicitly, do their thing. In another 10 days or so, all will be fresh and new, the very picture of a cliched cottage bathroom.
I chose and ordered the materials, and left them to it. I have no desire to micro-manage this or supervise it in any way (also, there’s no water). No designer was hired, no plans drawn. I had two 20-minute meetings with Miguel in which I waved my hands about and explained how I visualized the project, throwing in a few terms like “clamshell” and “quarter round” and “bullnose” so he’d know I’ve been this way before.
The demolition is done, and the tub installation is happening this week, with tile work to follow. The friend who’s keeping my houseplants alive this winter peeked in to check progress and captured the scene, including the 1940s flowered wallpaper behind the medicine chest.
I’ve never been so relaxed about a renovation either. However it turns out — even if a molding is a couple of inches off, or something is not quite as I envisioned it — it’s going to be just fine.