The Money Pit

Many things make me crazy: wars, broken economies, healthcare woes. But the things that make me the most crazy—I mean, blood-pressure-off-the-charts, face-flushing, growl-in-frustration, double-vision crazy—are so petty, so inconsequential, I’m embarrassed to admit them in this semi-public venue. But here goes: hunting misplaced keys, leaving late for a trip, and grouting.

Grouting, if you’ve never experienced it, is a race against the clock. Grout comes from the store in powder form, and once you add water, the clock starts ticking. Gradually the mixture turns to cement, although not gradually enough for my type-A, control-freak, can’t-believe-she-hasn’t-had-a-coronary-yet personality.

To start, you smoosh (a very technical grouting term you can now use to impress your friends) the grout all over the tiles to get it into the crevices between. That’s the fun part. But then comes the process of removing any excess grout. Should be easy enough, right?

Wax on, wax off.

Oh, but no, Grasshopper. You must wipe without using too much water, never use vertical or horizontal movements—only diagonal, don’t remove too much grout from the intended grout lines, and you must never, ever, under any circumstances, stop rinsing your sponge.

My perfectionist tendencies kick into high gear at this point. The sponge is always too wet and is never clean enough. Every line has too much or too little grout. And all the while the clock is ticking and the grout is cementing and the haze is sticking to the tiles and the grout in the bucket is getting too dry and the water is getting too dirty to clean the sponges and …

My head spins like the chick from Exorcist, I turn colors and speak in fluent grunt like the Hulk (although I turn red, not green) and I stomp around the room with more force than Godzilla, himself, could muster. It ain’t pretty.

As part of my personal growth toward self-actualization, I am working to minimize these over-the-top reactions to seemingly innocuous situations. And this weekend, while grouting the master bath, I finally found my Zen.

I can now grout peacefully, humming happily to music, chatting with Rush, and even taking little mishaps in stride—all without popping a single pill.

Of course there is a down side: It may be circa 2052 before we get to take a shower at Munro. You see, I have to work in ridiculously small sections, taking my time to apply the grout at my leisure and wiping as many times as it takes to get it just right. Given two hours, I can grout an area of approximately three square feet. The bathroom may never be finished, but at least I won’t blow an artery or hurt innocent bystanders in the process.

Bill Bixby and my therapist would be so proud.

In my last post, I whined about the lengthy decision-making process for all the bathroom fixtures and features. It’s incredible the number of decisions that go into just over 60 square feet, not to mention the ever-burgeoning hours of labor.

The first few tiles finally go up.

We couldn’t afford to both be away from the project for an entire Saturday, so Rush toiled at the Munro house while Mom, Julie and I went shopping for tile, fabric and such. I was incredibly nervous shopping for master bath tile without Rush, considering our opposing positions on the tile spectrum.

We found a great mosaic tile made up of one-inch black marble, white marble, gray crackled glass and clear blue glass. It was sharp and rich, masculine and classy, so I was sure Rush would like it. Unfortunately it was also $15 per square foot, which I was equally sure he would NOT like. (They also didn’t have enough of it, so while Mom and I shopped for coordinating tile, Julie drove across Atlanta to another store location to get enough mosaic for the project. Did I mention Julie rocks?!!)

Glass and marble tiles banded in black subway tile

I decided I could split the squares in thirds and band it with black subway tile for a striking border at a greatly reduced cost. We then found some 8×12 inch, marble-look ceramic tiles, white with gray veining, for $.66 each, perfect for the main wall tile. Then Mom suggested standing the black subway tiles on end and running them along the floor as a faux molding.

Voila! Tile dilemma solved! Rush likes it. I love it. And it works with the existing floor. Mom helped me get the first few tiles on the wall and so far it’s going up relatively easily. Bonus: Mom and Dad loaned us their tile saw so we wouldn’t have to buy or rent one. They rock, too!!

Border above marble-look tile

My advice from my tile experience: In order to limit the overwhelming possibilities, find an inspiration piece, some pattern or accent or color combination that you love, and build the rest of the room around it. Also, be flexible. I went to the tile store thinking I was going to buy four-inch green spa tile and ended up with something completely different, but far better.

Last night we dry-fit the tiles for the shower floor. It’s going to look great! So tonight I try my hand at thin-set. (So far I have only worked with mastic, which is much easier to use.) Wish me luck!