Kenny and I bought our house 9 years ago, and it was 12 years old at that time. New homes then had different layouts and focal points than they do today. Kitchen counters were long rectangles, not necessarily islands. Most homes had living rooms AND family rooms, and many also had separate dining rooms, rather than one huge kitchen area that encompassed all entertaining needs.
A notable difference was the master bath. Today’s home designs emphasize “spa bathrooms,” large, open areas with oversize jetted tubs, walk-in showers, generous sinks, and softer, more flattering lighting. They are often wired for flat-screen TVs and iPod docking. In short, they are in-home destinations. A place to get ready for the day, or unwind after the day is done…a place to linger after a stressful day, soaking in a bubble bath, lights down, candles lit, wine in one hand and a box of Milk Duds in the other (Don’t judge…)
OUR master bath is a simple galley-style, one long rectangle, two small sinks on your right, wall on your left, shower/bathtub directly ahead at the end. Pretty, but decidedly utilitarian in nature. It also has the only decent lighting in the house for makeup application. Due to its tight layout, only one person can shower in there in the morning because the backed up shower steam quickly turns it into an Amazonian rain forest, oozing melting makeup into every line and crevice on your face. The end result is a bit “make-up at the beach.” Tacky, and harder to pull off with each passing year. On workday mornings, I shower in the master bath, while Kenny gets bumped to the smaller guest bath.
One sleepy weekday morning, Kenny stumbled into the big shower and took a long, leisurely, HOT shower. When I went in to put my makeup on, I felt like a Bahamian tourist in July. Humid steam covered the mirrors and the walls, and glued my clothes to my back. “SERIOUSLY??” I wailed. “Sorry, sweetie,” he smiled as he grabbed a towel and headed down the hall, “But not to worry. I have JUST the solution.” A minute or so later, just as I opened a jar of loose powder, he showed up in the doorway, proudly clutching a large, standing floor fan. Before I could yell “Nooooo!!“ he placed it directly in the doorway and turned it on “High,” back-blowing sparkly loose powder EVERYWHERE, including my face, hair, clothes, and every bathroom surface. Well, crap.
By now, Kenny is HOWLING with unrestrained laughter, our bathroom shimmers like Barbie’s Fairy Dreamhouse, and I’m back in the shower. I’m so going to be late for work.