A completely lackluster bathroom about to change:

Gross, huh? You might notice the black and gray and various discolored spots and think, “Does she ever clean?” It’s not mildew and dirt, it’s evidence of decay–Rust, holes, cracks, places where all shiney shower surfaces meant to repel water have disappeared.

And, so it begins, nothing is left but 100 year old beams and frame.

These two are my favorites. Destruction and old structure surround the glistening, unsoiled, brand-spanking new commode.

For this last one, imagine a quiet house at blackest midnight on a cold and extremely windy night, with gusts rocking trees and houses, eliciting creaks and groans and mysterious portents. Now, imagine yourself alone, seated, with new floor just below you and your flank literally exposed to gaping holes leading to a dark and cavernous cellar. Fucking scary. (Not half as scary as this morning, when I took a quite groggy 7:30 a.m. pee and realized one of the siding guys from outside’s construction was down in the basement doing something. Woke me up, and creeped me out.)