So the fun little bathroom remodeling project mentioned in a previous post is still going on, however many weeks later.
To be fair, I did predict that it would be a long and perilous journey and, sadly, I was correct.
While the contractor and the subs have been great, trying to get materials and parts has been a nightmare. Take the vanity we picked out. Or should I say vanities.
Vanity No. 1 was ordered in plenty of time, with the delivery due not long after deconstruction began. Alas, two days before it was to arrive, we received an e-mail notifying us that there would be a slight delay and it wouldn’t arrive for another six to eight weeks.
After cancelling that order, we awaited shipment of vanity No. 2, which was supposed to be here in a week to 10 days. And, we could track it! Oh, boy. There it is in California, enjoying the sunshine and warm weather while we sit here shivering in still-winter weather with a big hole where our bathroom used to be.
After about a week of loitering out on the left coast, it materialized in Dallas. Halfway here!
After another week or so, it still sat in Texas. Until finally, it got to Charlotte. Where it sat. And sat.
Three weeks after ordering, the shipping company called to say they were on their way and they would deliver it to our house provided the tractor trailer rig could get up our narrow, steep gravel driveway. Of course you can! I think you can! I think you can! I think … oh, who am I kidding. You’re not the Little Train That Could, you’re the big truck that couldn’t.
Plan B! Deliver to F’s office in town, where semis cruise past constantly. The contractor picks it up there and at long last, vanity No. 2 is at our house. It is unpacked and it looks absolutely gorgeous – if you ignore the three cracks in the marble countertop.
So, vanity No. 3. Or at least vanity countertop No. 3. We send pictures of No. 2’s cracks – no doubt from lazing at the beach in the sun too long in California – and the company says, no problem, we’ll ship you another one. Which they did. And it only took about 10 days. And it too was delivered in a big ol’ tractor trailer rig. And so we diverted it again to F’s office.
We get it home and unload it. F says, hmmm, the box looks pretty dinged up. Let’s open it and look. Let’s not, say I. See, it looks fine … except for that chunk broken off there on the corner.
Meanwhile, the vanity itself has taken up residency in our bedroom – right at the end of the bed, to be exact, so that we can run a nightly obstacle course to get to the other bathroom.
Okay. Vanity countertop No. 4. The company says they will ship yet another one, but it might be awhile. Or they could refund us some of the cost to buy a replacement locally. Ah … okay, but living in a small town means we have the one big-box hardware – excuse me, home improvement – store and while their website shows they have a replacement countertop that looks pretty much like the two broken ones, they don’t have them in stock and they can’t order them. Why not? Just can’t. What do you mean, you just can’t? Don’t know, just can’t. But the sister store 25 miles away has two.
Great! Our contractor heads over there to pick one up, but has the foresight to ask them to open the boxes which he can see are dinged up and of course they are both broken.
And here I thought rock quarried from the earth was durable and strong.
So I start searching on the internet and find one at a store an hour away. I call and ask them if they actually have one and could they open the box and see if it is cracked. Yes and no, they say – yes, they actually have three and no, they can’t open the box.
So I drive the hour plus, get an employee to help and sure enough, he’s willing to open the box – sort of. It is packed in there pretty good, but standing on its edge, so unless we completely rip off the packaging all I can do is peer hopefully down into the box. I take the gamble and roll it up to checkout where I am asked whether I am going to need any help loading this 150 pound box encasing a slab of stone into my car. I look at the cashier. I flex my biceps. (No, no, just kidding. My biceps are not the flexing type.) Two people stronger than me join me out in the parking lot to load this beast into the car. Or maybe they’re not that much stronger; one almost drops his end, but they eventually heft it in. And I’m on my way, being extra careful to avoid potholes and sudden stops.
So I get home and the contractor unboxes the countertop. We carefully strip away all the padding and … beautiful. No cracks, no broken pieces, no scratches. They carry it up the stairs to the bathroom-to-be and gently settle it on the vanity. I let out a sigh of relief.
I blame a lot of this mess on the fact that we ended up with a marble countertop rather than some less fragile alternative. Faithful readers know my opinion on granite and other fashionable countertops, and that I have no problem whatsoever with Formica. But this is what we chose; we just didn’t know we were choosing such trouble. Who knew that real rock is no match for manufactured laminate?
So that leaves the lighting, the faucets, and the toilet. But at least they’ve already been delivered.
Oh, and then the other bathroom will get a makeover.
Ah, well. As soon as summer gets here, I’ll be peeing outside and showering with the hose anyway.