Do you remember how comedians used to regularly start jokes like, "My wife is SOOO fat …" and wait for the corresponding, "How fat IS she?" response from the audience? Remember those jokes?
My bathroom IS one of those jokes. And I'm not laughing.
Yesterday afternoon I was moving right along, managing to cut the quarter-round with only ONE mitred angle error when I made a rather nasty discovery that begins with: My bathroom is SOOOO small. How small is it? So small that I can't get a 46-inch piece of quarter-round to the wall in a single piece – without dismantling plumbing at one end or the other. ARRRRRGGGGGHHHH!
There's another option, of course. It means cutting the piece. And that sucks. I've not decided yet whether I'm going to do it or not or if I'm brave enough to put on my plumber's hat. (I'm of the school that if it ain't broke, don't fix it. I'm of that school because the lessons I've had have taught me time and again to NOT go mucking with things within This D*mn House that are otherwise sound … it's generally not a risk worth taking.)
How can a 30-square-foot room be this difficult? The finish line is definitely within reach but looks like it's going to be one helluva home stretch.