The Parlor Bathroom, Part 2
The Parlor Bathroom after the first stage of demolition.
So the parlor bathroom basically needed everything, but first, and urgently, it needed working plumbing—all the bathrooms did.
I’d go into clients’ fancy Upper East Side apartments with grit under my fingernails, behind my ears, in my hair, and a face raw from using surface cleaning wipes to erase the dusty outline of goggles.
So we found a lovely plumber who was creative and precise and could tell us what was possible and what was not. He proved to be an important resource going forward, someone we could call in when we had new ideas. Anyway, he did the rough-in, replacing the patchwork piping with new.
Our schedule in those early days was to wake up before 6am, ride the subway uptown from my mother’s apartment in Greenwich Village where we were staying, stopping at the Home Depot on 23rd street or 68th street to pick up supplies. We’d get to the house just after 7am, crank the heat a little (it was February, and freezing, but only a few radiators worked), and continue with whatever project we were doing - at that stage, still mostly demolition. Then around 2 or 3 I would wash up as best I could and leave to work my job. I’d go into clients’ fancy Upper East Side apartments with grit under my fingernails, behind my ears, in my hair, and a face raw from using surface cleaning wipes to erase the dusty outline of goggles.
At 10 or 11 in the evening we’d lock up and go back downtown, where we’d shower and gratefully fall into bed. I have never slept so well.
I’d return a few hours later with something warm from the 76th Street D’agostinos, and usually a massive thing of cookies and a whole carton of lemonade. It became our ritual meal, necessary both for the lifting of spirits and the fueling of constant, backbreaking work. At 10 or 11 in the evening we’d lock up and go back downtown, where we’d shower and gratefully fall into bed. I have never slept so well.
With only intermittent water, we adapted: the aforementioned wipes were used liberally, and when the water was shut off in the middle of the day and our bladders grew increasingly full? Let’s just say there’s a bucket we don’t talk about.
Let’s just say there’s a bucket we don’t talk about.
