Strong hankerings for a shrimp cocktail, normally don’t accompany a brief visit to the master bathroom, but after our shower tile was recently repaired, I can’t stop thinking of cocktail sauce, which is loaded with spicy horseradish. The entire place smells like horseradish. Even Alex says, “Mmmm wasabi! Gimme some sushi.” Whatever chemicals were used to repair and seal our master bathroom shower must include massive amounts of this pungent condiment. And, by the way, our shower was just repaired! I know; this news is sudden. The last time I mentioned “shower repair” I was talking about a hole in Alex’s tub, which required an entire new bathroom of sorts. This time, our shower needed help, and we were not going to DIY it because the last people who owned our house DIY’d the tile/master bathroom remodel, and here’s what happened:
–They put in luxurious Italianate-style tiles and little ditties everywhere, which really impressed us when we were first looking at houses.
–They grouted the tiles.
And that’s where they stopped. They didn’t seal anything. They didn’t caulk anything, either. So, evil mold grew here and there and everywhere, and I tried, really really hard for the last four years to zap that mold with super-powered cleaners, but nothing will save you if you don’t f@9!! seal and caulk! Seal and caulk! Seal and caulk!
So, no. We weren’t going to do this ourselves. We hired someone. Someone I never saw, but I felt his presence in the way that he barreled up the stairs, while I stay locked in my office. I imagined what he looked like when he called out, “Nathan! Hey, Nathan!” to tell him when he was done for the day. I noticed the little things—like the way in which our soaking tub sprayer attachment was slightly askew the day after he and a workmate locked themselves inside the master bathroom. I noticed (a little too late), the way in which the blinds were half open. (Hello, neighbors who just saw my boobs!)
In any case, it’s over. It’s all over now, and I have a shower that’s not moldy anymore! I can’t use it for 72 hours, but it’s clean and pretty—and smelling like a seafood buffet at the fanciest restaurant in town. I’m a lucky, lucky gal.
Your Turn: What smells remind you of home?