A Thousand Little Decisions

Series: The Shower Chronicles
Three acts of a bathroom remodel and three different lessons about what happens when you start pulling on a thread.

[1. The Great Shower University][2. The Shower Was Never the Project][3. A Thousand Little Decisions]

Part 3 of 3: Somewhere along the way, the bathroom became less about getting it done and more about learning how to do it right.


A bathroom remodel is really just a thousand little decisions nobody ever sees.

The Bathroom Nobody Sees

When people ask how the bathroom remodel is going, I never know quite how to answer.

Do I tell them about the tile?

The shower pan?

The plumbing?

The waterproofing?

The tools?

The hundreds of hours of research?

Because the truth is…

I didn’t really remodel a bathroom.

I made a thousand little decisions.

One at a time.

That’s the part nobody sees.

When someone walks into a finished bathroom, they see the things meant to be seen.

The tile.

The vanity.

The glass shower doors.

The fixtures.

They see the finished product.

They don’t see the choices made weeks and months earlier that determine whether everything works the way it should.

They don’t see the careful measurements.

The research.

The questions.

The mistakes avoided before they ever happened.

The little details hidden behind walls that nobody will ever notice.

And honestly?

That’s probably my favorite part.

I’ve always enjoyed figuring things out.

Maybe that’s why retirement has been such a good fit for me.

A lot of people think retirement means slowing down.

For me, it meant finally having the time to learn the things I was always curious about.

During my working years, I didn’t have time to become a tile setter, carpenter, plumber, and waterproofing expert.

Now?

Apparently, I do.

Although Jan might argue that I’ve become less of an expert at remodeling and more of an expert at watching YouTube videos.

She may have a point.


The Decision

When we decided to renovate the bathroom, we had a choice.

Hire someone.

Or do it myself.

The estimates from contractors came in somewhere between $20,000 and $25,000.

My budget?

About $3,500.

That included materials and the tools I didn’t already own.

Now, before anyone thinks I built a bargain bathroom, let me clear something up.

The only bargain in this project was the labor.

Mine.

I wasn’t interested in cutting corners.

Actually, it was the opposite.

If I was going to invest the time to learn a new skill, I wanted to do it right.

The goal wasn’t cheap.

The goal was right.

There’s a difference.

Saving money means finding a better way.

Cutting corners means doing less.

I’m always looking for the first one.

The good kind of shortcut.

The kind where the job turns out just as good, but maybe a little smarter.


The Things Worth Paying For

The budget was small because I did the work myself.

It wasn’t because I bought cheap materials.

Quite the opposite.

I wanted products I could trust.

A premium Tile Redi shower pan.

GoBoard waterproof wall panels.

VersaBond HP High Performance thinset.

Schluter trim.

Premium Delta shower doors with soft-close technology.

An Ariel vanity and matching storage cabinet.

Marble-look flooring.

Heavy stainless steel corner shelves.

And a brushed nickel Moen grab bar that looks like part of the design instead of something you’d expect to see in a nursing home.

I wasn’t trying to build the cheapest bathroom.

I wanted to build one I’d still be proud of years from now.

Because after all…

Why would I pay someone else to take all the fun away?


The Lessons Start Before the Tile

The biggest lesson came before a single tile was installed.

A beautiful tiled shower doesn’t start with tile.

It starts with what’s behind the tile.

The walls.

The studs.

The preparation.

Large-format tile is unforgiving.

It will expose every mistake.

A wall that looks perfectly fine to the eye can suddenly look like a roller coaster when you put a 24-inch tile against it.

That sent me down another research rabbit hole.

One installer shimmed everything.

Another planed everything.

A third had a completely different opinion.

By the time I finished watching videos, YouTube probably thought I was opening a tile company.

The older I get, the less interested I am in pretending I know everything.

The fun is learning something I didn’t know yesterday.

After all the research, I made my decision.

Plane the high spots.

Shim the low spots.

Bring everything into the same plane.

Simple enough.

Except…

I didn’t own a planer.


The Marketplace Hardware Store

Facebook Marketplace came through.

A Bosch electric hand planer.

Fifteen dollars.

Some people search Marketplace for antiques.

Some people look for collectibles.

I look for tools.

Jan says I have a problem.

I prefer to think I’m giving tools a second chance at a useful life.

Marketplace became my favorite hardware store.

A few weeks later, I found a professional wet saw.

The owner had used it exactly one time.

He was moving back to Michigan that afternoon and didn’t want to haul it halfway across the country.

His moving day became my lucky day.

That’s the fun part of projects like this.

The hunt.

The problem solving.

The little victories.

It’s not just about saving money.

It’s about finding a solution.


The Shower Pan Road Trip

The shower pan delivery became its own adventure.

The trucking company called asking if their tractor-trailer could get into our condo community.

I laughed.

Not because I didn’t appreciate the question.

Because I already knew the answer.

No.

There was no way that truck was turning around in our little neighborhood.

I suggested the driver pull over on busy Knob Creek Road just beyond our entrance.

I’d meet him there.

So there I was…

Retired Lenny, standing on the side of the road helping unload a shower pan while traffic went by.

The funny part?

The pan itself was extremely lightweight.

Bulky.

Awkward.

But light.

That’s why it had to come by common carrier.

A few weeks later, the same delivery company called again.

Same driver.

He recognized me.

“You’re the bathroom guy.”

I laughed.

This delivery was different.

The vanity wasn’t a lightweight shower pan.

Three or four boxes.

Strapped to a wooden pallet.

Heavy.

Traffic started backing up.

Fortunately, my new truck-driving friend had a motorized pallet jack.

He told me he had purchased it himself because it made his local delivery route possible.

That surprised me.

Even truck drivers have tools they need to do their jobs.

Maybe we aren’t so different after all.

He rolled that vanity right into my driveway.

Before leaving, he smiled and asked if I would remodel his bathroom when I finished mine.

I told him my schedule was pretty full.

I was booked somewhere between now and whenever I finally stop buying tools on Marketplace.


Every Answer Creates Three More Questions

The deeper I got into the project, the more I realized something.

Every answer created three more questions.

The shower pan was only the beginning.

Then came waterproofing.

Everybody knows the Schluter name.

It’s a great system and trusted by professionals everywhere.

After doing my research, I chose GoBoard because I liked the idea that the board itself was waterproof.

That decision led to more decisions.

Special sealant.

Special tape.

Special installation methods.

Then I learned something I never knew.

The transition between GoBoard and drywall requires alkali-resistant tape because thinset can react with regular drywall tape.

Six months earlier, I couldn’t have explained what thinset was.

Now I was researching cement chemistry.

That’s what happens when you’re curious.

Every answer leads to another question.

And honestly?

That might be my favorite part.

The learning never really stops.


The Decisions Nobody Thinks About

People see a finished bathroom and think about the big decisions.

The tile.

The vanity.

The colors.

The fixtures.

But many of the important decisions are the ones nobody notices.

The drain height.

The drain location.

Making sure the shower pan sits correctly.

Making sure the walls are flat enough for large-format tile.

Making sure every fastener is properly sealed.

Installing blocking behind the walls before they disappear forever.

Those aren’t the things people compliment.

Nobody walks into a bathroom and says:

“Wow, I really like the way you planned the blocking behind that grab bar.”

But someday, someone might appreciate that decision.

Especially if they need that grab bar.


Planning for the Future

That was another decision we made.

The grab bar.

Years ago, I probably would have said grab bars were for old people.

Now?

I think they’re for smart people.

I’m not getting any younger.

Neither is my balance.

And there’s a big difference between a grab bar that looks like it belongs in a nursing home and one that looks like it was always part of the design.

The 36-inch brushed nickel Moen grab bar we chose does exactly that.

It looks intentional.

It looks like it belongs.

Good design doesn’t just look good.

It works.


The Fun Decisions

Of course, not every decision was technical.

Some were just fun.

Finish choices.

Brushed nickel or black?

Chrome or bronze?

Jan liked brushed nickel.

I spent far too long comparing samples under different lighting.

Holding them up.

Walking around.

Looking at them from different angles.

Eventually, I admitted she was right.

Don’t tell her I said that.

The stainless steel corner shelves were another favorite discovery.

These weren’t the typical shelves with brackets or visible hardware.

They install directly into the grout lines.

No screws showing.

No clutter.

Just a clean, simple look.

Sometimes the smallest details make the biggest difference.


The Thinset Confession

Then there was the thinset.

If you’ve never worked with thinset, let me explain something.

It gets everywhere.

I mean everywhere.

My shoes.

My shirt.

My arms.

My glasses.

And somehow…

The back of my neck.

I still don’t understand that one.

I’m convinced thinset has a personality.

Maybe it waits until you think you’ve cleaned everything up.

Then it quietly appears somewhere new.

The funny thing is, those are the moments you remember.

Not because they were enjoyable at the time.

But because they become part of the story.

Every project has those moments.

The ones where you laugh afterward.

Usually after you’ve stopped being frustrated.


When There Is No Undo Button

For all the fun I had learning this new trade, there were two moments that made me genuinely nervous.

Not because I didn’t know what to do.

Because I knew exactly what was at stake.

The first was grout.

By this point, I had invested weeks getting everything as close to perfect as I could.

The walls were flat.

The tile layout was right.

The cuts were made carefully.

Now it was time for the step that would bring everything together.

Or expose every little imperfection.

I chose MAPEI Ultracolor Plus FA after doing more research than any sane person should probably do about grout.

I watched videos.

Lots of videos.

Every one of them said the same thing.

Work fast.

I thought I understood what they meant.

I didn’t.

Fast setting is an understatement.

That grout doesn’t politely suggest you keep moving.

It demands it.

Some of my grout lines aren’t absolutely perfect.

I notice every one of them.

I’m sure my brother Ed will notice them too if he ever sees it.

That’s what brothers do.

They find the one thing you missed.

But here’s the thing.

I’m confident it was installed correctly.

I’m confident it will perform beautifully.

And sometimes perfection lives only in the person holding the grout float.


Satan’s Teeth

The second moment was even more stressful.

Drilling holes into brand-new porcelain tile for the shower doors.

Think about that.

Weeks of preparation.

Hours of research.

Careful measurements.

Beautiful tile installed exactly where you wanted it.

Then someone hands you a drill.

One wrong measurement.

One slip.

One cracked tile.

And you’re not fixing a small mistake.

You’re starting over.

That sent me right back to research mode.

I studied drill bits.

I watched installation videos.

I read recommendations.

I wanted the right tool for the job.

Because porcelain is not ordinary tile.

One YouTuber from England described porcelain’s hardness as being about on par with Satan’s teeth.

I laughed.

Until I picked up the drill.

Suddenly, that description didn’t seem quite so funny.

But the right tools matter.

The right preparation matters.

And slowly…

carefully…

the holes were drilled.

No cracks.

No disasters.

Just another little decision completed.


The Good Kind of Shortcut

One thing I’ve learned over the years is there is usually an easier way to do almost anything.

But there’s a difference between a shortcut and cutting corners.

A shortcut saves time.

Cutting corners sacrifices quality.

I’m always looking for the first one.

The good kind.

The kind where the job turns out just as good, but the process becomes a little smarter.

The Schluter trim was a perfect example.

The recommended method is to install the metal trim first and tile up to it.

That works.

But something about it didn’t sit right with me.

The corners.

The miters.

Trying to make everything perfect before the tile was even installed.

It seemed unnecessarily complicated.

Then I found a veteran tile setter on YouTube who installed the trim after the tile.

The comments section was brutal.

Everyone had an opinion.

Some people were convinced he was doing it wrong.

But his reasoning made sense.

I tried it.

It worked beautifully.

Sometimes experience teaches things that instructions don’t.


The Things Nobody Sees

Someday someone will walk into this bathroom and simply say:

“Nice bathroom.”

And that’s perfectly fine.

They don’t need to know about the thousand decisions.

They don’t need to know about the research.

The YouTube videos.

The Marketplace bargains.

The late-night questions.

The moments when I stood there wondering if I had just made something more complicated than it needed to be.

They don’t need to know about the thinset mystery.

Or the grout lines I still notice.

Or the porcelain tile that stared back at me while I held a drill in my hand wondering if I was about to ruin weeks of work.

I’ll know.

I’ll know every choice that went into it.

The straightened studs.

The carefully placed shims.

The proper drain height.

The blocking behind the grab bar.

The waterproofing around every screw.

The hours spent learning something I didn’t know the day before.

That’s the funny thing about craftsmanship.

The best work is usually invisible.


Retirement Didn’t Mean Stopping

When I retired, I thought I was leaving behind deadlines, schedules, and responsibilities.

I didn’t realize I was gaining something else.

Time.

Time to learn.

Time to explore.

Time to become curious again.

Retirement didn’t mean I stopped learning.

It gave me the time to become a student again.

During my working years, I didn’t have the freedom to spend an evening comparing waterproofing systems.

Or watching professional tile setters explain why one method worked better than another.

Or searching Facebook Marketplace for a tool I didn’t even know I needed.

Now I do.

And I enjoy it.

Some people might see that as wasting time.

I see it differently.

Curiosity keeps you young.

Maybe not physically.

My knees would argue with that.

But mentally.


A Thousand Little Decisions

When I started this project, I thought I was building a bathroom.

I was wrong.

I was building confidence.

I was learning patience.

I was proving to myself that there are still new things to discover.

That you don’t stop growing just because you stop working.

The bathroom was simply the classroom.

The tile was the assignment.

The mistakes were the lessons.

The finished room is the report card.

And every time I walk into that shower, I won’t just see the tile.

I’ll see the story behind it.

The thousand little decisions.

One at a time.


The Final Confession

The funny thing is, nobody will ever see most of the work that went into this bathroom.

And that’s okay.

The best things we do in life are often like that.

The preparation.

The care.

The effort.

The decisions made when nobody is watching.

Those are the things that define the finished product.

Whether it’s a bathroom.

A career.

A friendship.

A marriage.

Or simply the way we spend our time.

So, would I do it again?

Ask me after I finish cleaning the thinset off my tools.

Actually…

Who am I kidding?

I’ll probably be on Facebook Marketplace tonight looking for the next bargain.

Because after all…

Why would I pay someone else to take all the fun away?


Series: The Shower Chronicles
[1. The Great Shower University][2. The Shower Was Never the Project][3. A Thousand Little Decisions]