Our story so far: We crossed things off our list as we finished some details on the old Methodist church we were turning into our home.

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Glimfeather, our plumber, returned. He still was a fan of strange hours (Sundays, Friday evenings) but he didn’t linger until 2 o’clock in the morning anymore.

It was so odd for me to see a man washing his hands in one of my sinks. For months, I had no sinks. Then for weeks, I had no faucets. And for days, I feared running the water (was the drain connected yet? Did I dare find out?). When I witnessed the plumber washing his hands, I knew: The system was operational. Glory be.

The plumbing in the kitchen was nothing particularly special (unless you consider a pot filler special) though I was inordinately excited about having a garbage disposal and a dishwasher again. It was the master bath plumbing that had me singing like Carly Simon: “An-ti-ci-pa-yay-tion … is making me wait.”

Coincidentally (if coordinating multiple tradesmen is ever coincidental), the vanity in the master bath came together in a matter of about forty-eight hours. You-Can-Call-Me-Al installed the tin ceiling and flanking cabinets, Low Talker painted the tin, Glimfeather installed the faucets and the glass guy installed my elegantly arched mirrors. We weren’t quite done—primarily, we needed lights, outlet covers, towel rings and knobs like an apothecary cabinet maker—but we got mighty close. That double-sink vanity made me want to brush my teeth. I would never have to share a mirror again!

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Tomorrow: Do you see what I see? A shower, a shower, dancing in the water. Read about it here.