Brooke here:
My apologies for the silence, but I needed a few weeks off. From blogging, not from home repair. Every so often there’s a swelling of arghwtfblechtothemartinimobile! that comes from chronicling various stages of destruction, and it’s best to not touch a keyboard during such moods.
Case in point: we finished one larger project. You might remember how my husband waited until I was out of town and then ripped the existing sink straight off of the wall in the little bathroom. Well, we have finished the room.
After quite a bit of plumbing and new fixtures and scrubbing and painting and such, the room now looks like this:
Looks snazzy, right? Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. This is quite possibly one of the worst jobs we’ve completed, thanks to a tile paint that has rendered the bathroom unusable except as a place to deposit poo.*
For the next week, I’ll post process shots on each stage of this project and show you how you, too, can make a bathroom conditionally worthless. Fun times!
*(Which, as Brown would surely correct me, is the single most important use for a bathroom and should not be taken lightly.)
Flying by night 
Bitchin’ robe, though.
I am jealous of the robe.
It is not black. It has no purple peacocks. I give it an eight out of ten. On a side note, what else was the bathroom intended for?
It’s a Covent Garden bathrobe! My parents sent them to us for Christmas back when my dad was working in London. It’s fantastic and very high on the list of things to grab if the house catches fire.
Wow, those look amazing. That robe would be the single most expensive item of clothing I owned. By a lot.