My mother's obsession with my toilet
It’s good to do a little touch-up in
one’s home every few years. Whether painting, the
swapping of hardware, or even a full-on renovation, those updates keep things
fresh.
After living in my home for more than a half-decade, I
think it's time to make changes.
The biggest one is the staircase: currently covered with old carpet, I
want it replaced with wood. It’s not as
easy as it sounds, but I found an independent contractor who can make it happen.
While talking about start dates with my mother, she careens the conversation to how she’s going to redesign the bathroom. Did I forget to mention she’s referring to my bathroom? And she's obsessed with my toilet.
“What is your obsession with the toilet?” I ask while
we’re both sitting at the dinner table at my parents’ house.
“You said you wanted to replace it,” she replies while
leaning back in her chair.
“When did I ever say that?”
“When you said you wanted to fix your bathroom.”
“That was you. You said that not me.”
“You didn’t say it?”
“No! I said I
needed to replace the faucet, not the
toilet.”
(To backtrack, my faucet needs replacing since it’s
cracked. I found a model, with one lever
instead of the two standard hot/cold ones.
The issue is it’s designed for a sink with one centre hole; mine has
three. Faucets similar to the model I
want that have a wide base are much more expensive. So, it’s cheaper to replace the faucet and
the sink at once. The thing is, the
cabinet will look old compared to the new faucet/sink combo. In the end, it’s just easier – and a worthy investment
– to replace all three at once. Never
did the topic of replacing the toilet come into play; that was all in my mother’s
head when she was mentally redesigning my bathroom.)
“Where did you ever get this thing about the toilet? You don’t even visit enough to have an
opinion on it.” It’s true. She visits
probably three times a year. I use
my bathroom three times before lunch.
“Well, you said you were going to renovate the bathroom,
so I assumed you were going to
replace everything.” She waves her
hand in the air, combined with a nonchalant eye roll.
When she gets up from the table and walks towards the
kitchen sink, it's a sign the
conversation is over. I don’t have the
strength to continue it, either.
Someday, if my mother renovates her house, she can do whatever she
wants (as long as I'm consulted on the colours, finishes and everything else). Until then, I get to pick what goes where. And since I’m paying for it, it’s going to
take a while for me to replace my toilet.