Chez Peebs et fermer

I think my sole claim to popularity is that I have a small extra bedroom in New York City. It’s cozy and clean (acceptably so at least) and my place in Brooklyn is on a nice, quiet street in a nice, quiet neighborhood (with occasional fire trucks to rattle the brain and help you remember where you are) and is only a block and a half from a very convenient subway stop: if you’re lucky with quick train arrival it’s 20 minutes and you’re in the heart of Manhattan or 20 minutes and you’re eatin’ a dog at Nathan’s in Coney Island. The best thing about this extra space is that I can be my own grumpy self and guests just have to put up with me because it is, after all, my home turf. Most people seem to accept these terms rather than pay with the lives of their first born to obtain a decent hotel room in New York.

Anyway, my little extra bedroom is out of commission right now because my bathroom is undergoing a bit of an excavation/ renovation. The 1,000-year-old bathtub has to be broken up and hauled away to make room for the installation of a complete new shower stall. I understand from the contractor that the new stall floor has now been constructed and that a demolition crew will be on its way soon to create the space for it and to reinforce the floor; after which the new stall base will be, well, installed. All new plumbing with brand new fixtures will immediately, I hope, ensue. The second phase will be the installation of new tile. Once the grout dries I’ll be back in business as a curmudgeon-at-large in charge of some cheap attractive space for passers-through. Here’s the keys; the subway is on the corner; don’t wake me up when you get home. If you’re a really a good guest and bring your own soap I might make coffee in the morning. But don’t count on it.

Update Sunday, July 27, 2008: Four weeks it took! With a combination of mismanagement, mismeasurements and missed appointments I'm mystified how any contractors stay in business. The quality of the work is adequate but the aggravations and annoyances linger because of the mess left behind; yet another mystery. Doesn't anybody use dropcloths anymore? I spent yesterday afternoon scrubbing and cleaning but also admiring the clear glass doors of the new shower stall. Tonight, after waiting 24 hours (as directed) I can give it a dry run...which is odd, since I will emerge wet and rumpled and, hopefully, euphoric from the tingling result of my fabulous new shower head.