It was a weekend in late October when the battle began – a battle whose first round would go to a device so simple in its design, yet so infuriating. Eventually, I would claim victory, but the road to getting there would be paved with anger and expletives.
Yes it was the epic battle of me vs. the installation of the toilet paper dispenser in our bathroom – a battle for the ages.
There’s many places our tale could begin – when we received the brushed nickel toilet paper holder off our wedding registry three years ago, intent that we were going to get that bathroom renovation done by the end of the year.
Or it could be last Christmas, when we ACTUALLY began the bathroom renovation – covering up what was a tiled wall from the 50s or 60s, white-washing woodwork that was once beautiful and painted by a previous homeowner with a color that can only be described as “poop-brown” as well as pulling out a pedestal sink we once thought would be the perfect fit only to find it utterly impractical. This project began almost a year ago, and here we are, little by little, still putting things together.
We weren’t exactly the speediest when it came to home renovations back when we were just a couple. Now that we have a toddler running around, oh boy, is that repair time few and far between. It started last Christmas, when we started priming all that poop-brown painted woodwork. It was so dark that it took roughly 10 coats of primer and paint to get it covered with white – a process that was done mostly during the little guy’s naps. Then came covering up the flooring, then the tiled walls, a new sink, the quarter-round, and now, the toilet paper holder.
My father-in-law, a plumber by trade but knowledgeable about many a home repair situation, warned me that getting through the now-covered up tiles was going to be a challenge and I didn’t realize how true that was. He told me a nail would work to hammer away at the tile so that I could drill the screws through the tile and into the wall.
Several nails met their sad end trying to break through that tile. When I called my father-in-law to admit the defeat he casually told me ‘oh, I meant a hard nail. you can’t use regular nails on that stuff.’ A lesson learned too late. What was this ‘hard nail’ he spoke of? Well, he luckily had one I could borrow to find out. It acted, in a way, like a pointy chisel. I would place it into the spot on the tile and hit it with the hammer to chip a hole away at the tile. After several sweat-inducing attempts, I was ready to drill.
However, it would require more than just the standard household drill we needed. No, no. This needed an industrial-grade drill to get through the tile and walls.
Who knew having toilet paper hanging from the wall was going to cause this much frustration, right?
A lot of expletives flew that evening as I tried to drill the holes, based on the template provided by the manufacturer. This was I think one of the largest sources of frustration, as I had already used their template to drill holes through the walls in a way that could not be covered up at all, and they were slightly off!!!
This incident has, yes, made me incredibly suspicious about using those templates in the future as opposed to judging for myself.
So, holes were drilled and I had no choice. I would have to make sure that when I placed the holder onto the brackets now attached to the wall, that they be sort of, jury-rigged into place and tightened as much as possible to keep them in place as close to the intended target. Oy!
I nailed, I drilled, I sweat, I swore, I closed the door to make sure the little guy wasn’t around, but it got done. Meg says when the toilet paper is on the holder, it’s hard to notice the slant caused by following the template. I’ll always know it’s there, though. In fact, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stepped into the bathroom to look at it and just casually used my finger to tilt the roll of toilet paper over until it looks ‘just right.’
It may have been a small victory (if I can call it that), but the war isn’t over. We still have two glass shelves and some towel hooks that have to go up. If this was any indication, Meg and the little guy may want to go for a drive to avoid the drama that unfolds.