Build Bath & Shower

When we stumbled upon this house {almost a year ago!} this was the master bedroom and bath situation. Dusty brass ceiling fans , and all. Our now-home sat on the market for some time, and we believe this is one of the reasons why: People weren’t really sure what to do with such a tiny master bath . True to its age and style at the time the house was built, {circa 1976} the size and layout caused a bit of a conundrum. Good thing for us, we love conundrums. We originally purchased the house with the intent to redo, and then add an addition. Ideally, this will be Emerson’s space in the future. If you’ve been following for a while, then you know that we’ve had some real issues with the local septic inspectors. Wheeeeeeee! Codes here pride themselves on being difficult and taking a really long time. We hope to elaborate on an update soon.  Long story short , we may be getting super creative in the future. Stay tuned. After we purchased the house and decided to take on the renovation, we wor...

You never forget your first roommate. Whether it's for a good reason or a bad one, your roommate's reach will follow you throughout your college years and maybe years after that. Even those who had the lucky chance to choose their first roommate leave with some kind of story. Let's face it, living with some random person for nine months of the year, something's bound to happen — even moreso if you subjected yourself to the magical sorting hat that is the school's random roommate selection process . So everyone has a horror story about the weirdo they ended up sharing a room with their freshman year. And if they don't, they were probably the weirdo. Looking back at my freshman year — and realizing just how often I was telling my friends, "Wow my roommate is the best," or "Maddie is so nice," only to hear my friends grumble about theirs — I just figured I was lucky. Which I was, but it was not even two weeks into my sophomore year that my sec...

There it is again. That light tug of the strings that control me. It wakes me up in the morning before the sun does and tells me that I can’t sleep, but I can’t get up and get the day started either. The blankets come up over my head and we are alone. You don’t need to get up yet. You don’t work for two hours. Class doesn’t start until noon. You aren’t that hungry yet. There’s water right there, you can drink that. Fine, go to the bathroom, but come right back. My clingy, controlling, abusive worst friend is the only comfort I have. Crawling back into the warmth of my bed and telling myself, “just a bit longer.” But is it really me telling myself that? As soon as I hit the pillow, he’s back. Welcoming me into the darkness with open arms. Telling me that he is the only one I should talk to, the only one that wants to talk to me. The only one who wants anything to do with me. Everyone else is too busy or too healthy to deal with my problems, so why even bother telling them about him?...