Column by Donna Cronk
Editor’s Note: Donna has graciously allowed me to run her columns on my blog. Donna (Jobe) Cronk was a couple years behind me at UCHS. She was the best friend of my high school sweetheart, Cheryl. Cheryl had the good sense to run far away from me and is now living a very nice life in Wayne County. Donna took up the poverty life of a journalist and had a very successful career with the New Castle Courier Times prior to retirement. She still writes columns for New Castle and two other papers. Donna is the author of “Sweetland of Liberty Bed and Breakfast” and “That Sweet Place: At Home in the Heartland.” She is in the process of publishing a third book “There’s a Clydesdale in the Attic: Reflections on Keeping and Letting Go.”
Last July, husband Brian and I ordered all the things involved with refurbishing a bathroom.
It took 15 weeks for all the moving and non-moving parts to come together: for everything to arrive, and for the contractor to get to work. Then came a week and a half in November to remove the old, install the new, along with a few stray days to wrap up “the punch list” when some missing faucets arrived.
Finally, with the job complete, I took photos of the revised room and posted them on my blog at donnacronk.com. The camera spotted something that I had not. In looking at the photos, I noticed odd shadows on the tile. Must be the way the light streams onto it, I reasoned.
Then I looked closer and found that no, the problem was something more. Some of the tile was a shade—maybe just a half a shade—off from the rest. It was not white, as I had anticipated, but a shade of gray. I felt so let down, I could have cried.
More weeks passed. Why wasn’t Brian complaining? I waited for him to mention the issue I had discovered. Oddly enough, it was when you didn’t focus directly on the tile that you noticed it plainly. If you stared straight-on at it, it could be difficult to see—and explain.
Once I knew that indeed the tile had issues, I could see nothing else in the beautifully rehabbed room. Evidently, Brian simply hadn’t noticed. I thought he might be mad at me if I mentioned the problem these several weeks later. Plus, I had no idea how much would be involved to fix it in time, materials, expertise, and expense.
Likewise, I thought the contractor might be mad for those reasons. And although they were nice, I felt weary of having workers in my house and dust everywhere.
What to do? Live with it? Finally, the tears suddenly erupted, seemingly out of nowhere. I told Brian that I was disappointed, and why. I felt spoiled mentioning it, but darn it, it was disheartening to get something nice and new and there be something off.
He wasn’t mad. He said he didn’t exactly see the issue—maybe vaguely, he guesses—but if it bugs me, well, we spent too much on the project to leave me in a state of Donna Downer.
“Call the contractor and ask him to fix it,” Brian calmly suggested.
So, I did, and he wasn’t mad at all! He came right out and the next day, his crew spent most of a morning repairing it.
The contractor explained that women see color 200 times better than men. I don’t know the science and can’t point to a study, but I trust my source. I figure as a contractor who works with women and remodeling materials all the time and has for years, he knows of what he speaks.
It resolved quickly, and kindly. I’m delighted.
When son Ben arrived Christmas Eve after everything was complete, he commented on the new room. “That bathroom window is great!”
“The window?” I asked, perplexed.
There are new cabinets, new tub, new flooring, tile, stool, and shower. But it’s the same window that’s always been there. Same trim on the same window, even.
“Yeah,” Ben said, then reading my confused look, added, “Wait. Isn’t it new?”
“Nope. Same window we’ve always had.”
He was amazed. To him the octagon-shaped window over the tub now stood out. He had never noticed it before, I guess. Maybe it just seemed new with the lighter walls and the addition of white cabinets, tub, and other fixtures.
I feel sure he never would have noticed the off-color tile, had it remained. In fact, had I said nothing, he would still think the window stole the show.
For Brian, what stands out is the new replica of the old shower. He didn’t want a fancy, extended version with stadium seating. Only a replacement of the one he had with new hardware and a bigger shelf so he didn’t have to leave his shampoo on the floor.
I had pitched the idea of a bigger, expanded shower due to the peer pressure of those who pine for such upgrades. But he’s the shower guy—not me—and he didn’t see the point. His decision also saved us a bundle by not having to move major plumbing. In fact, it was his request for a new shower that made me propose expanding the project to include the entire room.
“Well, if we’re getting a new shower,” I began imagining, “I would like to replace those worn cabinets. And get a large storage cabinet rather than stowing towels under the sink. And the tub is pretty beat up…”
That’s how the nearly four-month wait, the job and its tweaks stretched right up to Christmas.
Brian saw one thing. I saw another. Ben, still another. The contractor, yet another.
Maybe what we see or don’t see in this bathroom project is a metaphor for how we all see everything differently than everyone else does through our own lenses with our own reasons, viewpoints, and influences. Maybe some things are in shades of gray. Our perspectives on nearly everything vary and differ–from decorating to politics to interests, goals, and dreams.
It’s something I’ll contemplate further during these wintry nights ahead …
Or maybe, I’ll simply just relax and enjoy my nightly soaks in the new tub as I make fine use of the scented bath bombs the boys gifted me for Christmas.
Donna (Jobe) Cronk spent 37 years as a journalist, the bulk of that time in New Castle. She is author of two novels fictionally set in Liberty. Her soon-to-be-published memoir is: There’s a Clydesdale in the Attic: Reflections on Keeping and Letting Go. It will soon be available from Amazon and from her. Connect with her at newsgirl.1958@gmail.com.