DIY Disaster: The Night Our Bathroom Tried to Sink the House
The real Old Faithful—majestic, powerful, and exactly the kind of geyser you'd expect to see... outdoors. Unlike the surprise version that erupted in our bathroom last night.
You know how sometimes you're just minding your business, trying to upgrade your bathroom, and then your house decides to test its emergency response system? No? Just me? Cool.
Here’s the story. Yesterday, my husband Denniss and I were in the trenches of a mini-bathroom reno. And by “we,” I obviously mean he – because my role was making the hard-hitting design decisions and offering the kind of moral support that only someone armed with Pinterest boards and strong opinions on tile can provide. He tackled removing the old vanity like a seasoned pro. We decided to leave the mirror/medicine cabinet for later. It looked like it was connected to the light switch, and I had to run to pick up the new light at Home Depot. The plan? Wait to take it down when we were ready to swap out the light fixture. It had been hanging there perfectly fine for, oh, 27 years, so we figured it was in it for the long haul. (Spoiler: it was not.)
In order for our new vanity to lay right we had to fill in the spot where our old vanity was sitting on the original flooring - so we pulled our extra laminate flooring planks we had stored in the shed. Turns out, they were about as straight as a curly fry, so my husband laid them out with some bricks over them to let them chill and straighten overnight. The plan was for him to install the vanity today. Easy. Simple. Foolproof.
Cut to 10 PM. Denniss and I are downstairs, editing a photo (just practicing some new techniques), when we hear this massive crash from upstairs. We sprint up, and guess what? The mirror decided it was done with life on the wall. It fell, smashed into the pipe, and suddenly we had our very own Old Faithful in the bathroom. Water. Everywhere. Gushing like it had been waiting it’s entire life for this exact moment.
Cue the chaos: It was all hands on deck. I was barking orders like a pirate captain—directing the boys to grab every towel, bucket, bowl, and random Tupperware they could find. If it could hold water, it was enlisted. Meanwhile, Denniss was racing to shut off the main valve like his house depended on it (which, considering the amount of water that was flowing-that is not an exaggeration- I am convinced our well was trying to empty itself). We were moving fast, but the water was faster. It slipped through the ceiling, gave our dining room table an impromptu bath, and then took a casual stroll down to the basement. Because of course it did. Why settle for ruining one floor when you can try to ruin three?
Thankfully, we were quick enough that our hardwood floors on the main floor were spared. But our chandelier? Swamped. We set up buckets under every drip, mopped up the puddles, and laid towels on the waterlogged carpets as best we could, and placed every fan we owned (which, surprisingly, were more than a few) on the most affected areas.
Last night as I dozed off to sleep, I was mentally preparing to become best friends with a shop vac and a drywall patch kit.
But, surprise! Turns out this was less of a DIY fix and more of a "call in the pros before the house floats away" kind of situation. The plumber came, the insurance kicked in, and a team of very nice gentlemen arrived to demo the bathroom, a few ceilings, and pull out some carpet. Now we get to live with the constant hum of fans and dehumidifiers—like a spa day, but for the house, and way less relaxing. Really it’s more akin to having a wind tunnel experiment in our own house. At least it’s only for a week. And really, it could have been worse. Thank God we were home when it happened.
Moral of the story? Maybe don't trust a 27-year-old mirror—especially one that's been clinging to the wall since the Clinton administration. Or at least give it a good shake every once in a while to make sure it's still committed to the relationship. Because if it's plotting an exit strategy, better to find out before it decides to make a dramatic exit.
Cheers,
Nicóle
