The Last Bath
18 Apr
Our clawfoot tub, now in the kitchen.
Our extended family may not agree on religion, politics, or sports teams, but they can agree on one thing: “You need a new toilet.”
Every family member who visits says this to us and we always have the same response: “We know.”
It’s funny. I don’t remember noticing the toilet before we bought the house, but as soon as we moved in it became the primary topic of conversation.
“Why do you think it’s like that?” I asked, staring down at the brown, blue and green stained porcelain bowl.
“Minerals,” Doug said.
Our house was built in 1918. The toilet looked like it was built in 1818.
Still, it worked. Okay, so you needed a plunger for anything besides number 1, but as long as you were careful, it worked. We nicknamed it the Geyser because of our close proximity to Yellowstone and its strange colors and ability to shoot water.
I tried various cleaners on the stains until I could no longer stand the thought of flushing another toxic chemical down the toilet. We had other remodeling priorities, we thought, and as long as we warned visitors it was no big deal. Turns out, when you live with something long enough, you forget to warn people until it’s nearly too late.
“Um.” Tap, tap, tap on the bathroom door. “Sorry to disturb you, but we really need you to know that the toilet was like that when we moved in here and if there is any doubt in your mind about whether it will flush please use the plunger.”
We forgot to warn my mother-in-law before she visited, and she was waiting for Doug on the porch when he arrived home.
“What happened in there?” she demanded.
“In where?” Doug asked, genuinely confused.
“The bathroom.”
“Oh.”
When my father-in-law came to visit he immediately offered to buy us a new toilet. “C’mon,” he said. “We’re going to the hardware store and we’re getting you a new toilet. Shouldn’t cost more than $75.”
This was a kind offer, but we gently explained that actually a new toilet in an old house would mean ripping out the existing floor, and once you go there, an entire remodel including plumbing. We didn’t want to ruin his vacation entirely.
Because, you see, this is our only bathroom. That’s right, and we are currently in week two of the remodel, which did include removing the clawfoot tub, ripping out the cheap flooring put in by the previous owners, and taking out the toilet. Not an inexpensive undertaking, but a necessary one.
Our toilet is not gone, however. It’s currently a big part of our lives in the garage, where we are employing space age technology to take care of our waste until a new one can be properly installed.
The Geyser, now in the garage
I’m not kidding. A local company called Cleanwaste sells “Go Anywhere Toilet Kits” which includes a bag that fits over a toilet seat with a powder in the bottom called Poo Powder. They also sell Wag Bags for camping and emergency situations. According to their website, “Poo Powder is a proprietary blend of a NASA-developed super-absorbent designed to gel and encapsulate liquid and solid waste, and a natural deodorizing agent and decay catalyst.” Which means, that you can poo in the bag, it biodegrades, and you can dump the sealed bag into your garbage without having to worry about it exploding or smelling. I know, eww. But a bigger eww would be not having something like that around in this situation.
Where are we bathing? At the gym. Doug claimed that he could go without a shower for a month, which I told him not to brag about, and he broke down after Day 3. Remember, Doug was a river guide for many years and bathed in a river the whole summer, but even he admits that this is different since he is doing the entire remodel himself and is covered in construction materials by the end of the day.
I try to remind him. “When it’s finished the bathroom will be gorgeous, just like our kitchen remodel, and we won’t have to knock on the door when people come over for dinner. Won’t that be nice?“
There are plenty of apartments in NYC with a bathtub in the kitchen, and they’re pricey too. I had a friend who lived in Hell’s Kitchen, who could take a shower while cooking an egg! I’m just happy to see that you too are the proud owner of a clawfoot. We have a small one upstairs, which I make a pilgrimage to several times a week. Our house was built in 1910, so we’ve been there done that. At one point, Richard had just installed a lamp in the wall of our son’s room. We were eating dinner when we heard it fall when out of the wall. “Why is it we wanted an old house again?” Richard asked.
This might be my favorite post ever – I wasn’t sure if I was mortified or giggling while I read it
Bless your heart. Having lived through my first remodel recently, I give you big props going for another round.
This is hilarious!! Sounds like something my brother would do and probably will some day. I'll be sure to mention the Go Anywhere Toilet Kits when he does. His wife and 2 year old should appreciate it. hahaha!
Janelle – You crack me up.
I want to know more about your past with the clawfoot tub – because our experience has been HORRIBLE. When we bought our house, we were SO excited about the tub – it added a degree of charm to our 100-year-old house And then we actually SHOWERED in it, and all sense of charm flew right out the window. Why? Because you cannot move an INCH in the shower without the blasted curtain sticking to you. You remain paralyzed in the exact center of the tub, praying that you do not need to bend over for anything, because the curtain will most definitely come with you when you stand up. And god forbid you need to shave your legs – because it ain't happening! I think I am going to start a facebook group called "Don't By Fooled By Their Quaint Appearances; Clawfoot Tubs are the Devil in Disguise"
I love this post. The Poo Powder is so cool, but may you not have to use it for long. Good luck!!
I never understood the appeal either. They always seemed so impractical…and I've never even used/owned one!
Those tubs are the best really hold the heat
I forgot to write that Poo Powder is not to be confused with Floo Powder (ala Harry Potter). But, as to the tub, we love it, and I've never had a problem with the shower curtain, but Doug built the shower enclosure so it might be that it's better than some of the enclosures that come with clawfoots, I don't know. We had a long discussion about whether to replace the tub with a really nice shower, but decided that it's just too nice in the winter when you're longing for a hot tub but can't get one. They are totally impractical, especially for water conservation, but I like being able to lay down completely in the bath!
Awesome Janelle.!!!
Oh my gosh! Blech! I hope you get the remodel done quickly!! I, too, am sure it will be beautiful.
Stopping by from SITS
Oh my goodness! Poo Powder??
Good luck to you! I hope there will be a photo of your fancy installed toilet soon!
Really, it sounds like the perfect time for you to take a little vacation
Lamb’s Most Recent Post: Woot, Woot! Party at the 2010 HGTV Green Home!
Good humor. Thanks for sharing.
This was so funny, and it coincides with our exasperation with our toilets, which are not old, but simply aren’t worth a crap — literally! We ordered two space-age types, because frankly at this time in life, luxury is not caviar and champagne but a toilet that does the job without needing a plumber’s helper for those daily duties. Modern toilets are designed to conserve water, but when you need to flush two or three times, no water is saved. Anyway, the new toilets are awaiting installation, which might be a problem because of their fancy water intakes. I hope you get yours installed soon!
Jan Marshall and I used the first flush toilet west of the Mississippi, which was in the Dodge House in Council Bluff, Iowa, where Jan was the first bride to be married there since the Dodge daughters in the 1800s. That was a happy memory!
Catherine, sometimes I truly think we live parallel lives! Love your story and hope the toilets work out. I feel your pain! Janelle
Happy SITS Saturday!!! Your blog is very fun to read!! Keep up with the fabulous work:) xo