Our story so far: We were preoccupied by bathrooms as the plumber worked and we renovated the 126-year-old Methodist church we were turning into our home.
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But nothing could be as bad as the contractors’ bucket.
Shortly after Glimfeather the plumber began work, the only piece of operational plumbing in the church was decommissioned in order to move around pipes or drains or vents or something.
But like other bodily functions, pee happens. The parade of contractors through the church were exclusively men so Tyler could get away with establishing a five-gallon bucket in the back entryway as a temporary urinal. Who needs a porta-potty when ya got a bucket?
I, of course, opted out. Way out. I wouldn’t even volunteer to empty the thing. But I also had to plan my coffee consumption and work breaks in order to make a trip back to the rental house to relieve myself when necessary.
For a month, the guys carried on with nary a complaint (guys are like that).
As Glimfeather wrapped up his work, the original toilet in all its porcelain glory and running water was reinstalled in the basement bathroom which, I should mention, still lacked an operational vanity sink and a door, but still—a toilet! Applause—with unwashed hands—erupted in the crowd.
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Tomorrow: We take a dip. Read it here.
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