One of the joys of owning an old house (built 1895) is all the quirks that come along with it. Our house has the tiniest bathroom, with no room to expand. To try to liven up the space, I’ve painted it many times. The first time I painted the whole thing a rich blue and the ceiling and trim lime green. Last spring when we tried to sell the house, the realtor told us that we needed to paint it, so I painted the whole thing white. White to match the white floor, white cabinet, white shower curtain and the white towels. Talk about boring.

Ever since we decided to refinance rather than sell, I’ve been wanting to paint the bathroom again. (Not that I’ve really been wanting to experience the joy of painting, but I’m so sick of the boring white that I will suffer through more painting.) Every time my friend, Brooke (hi, Brooke!), goes on break (she’s a teacher on a year round schedule) we have to do a project. We’ve made marble magnets, knitted, made soap, made bagels and this year we decided to paint our bathrooms.

I know what you’re thinking, if I’m painting my bathroom, Honor will be locked out of it for a whole day and that means that he will not have any toilet time. For shame! But not to worry, he got plenty of toilet time in before hand, the day before he threw my comb and a waffle in there. And the morning of, he threw his socks in. The withdrawals were a little hard on him, but he suffered through.

I forgot to bring my camera to take pictures of Brookes bathroom (and later I remembered that we both had camera phones -duh-).
Here’s mine before:

And after:

Notice that the kids are playing in the water? Nothing unusual.