Phase 1: The Honeymoon YouTube videos lied to me. Everyone said, “Bathroom remodels are easy! Just slap in a new vanity, tile over the old tile, and boom—insta-spa.” I believed them. I was young. Naive. Full of hope and Home Depot gift cards. Day 1: We demoed the old pink-tile nightmare from 1987. It felt empowering. Like we were archaeologists uncovering ancient civilizations (of mold). We high-fived. We posted before photos on the family group chat. Everyone said “Can’t wait to see the after!” Famous last words.

Phase 2: The Plumbing Betrayal

Day 3: The plumber arrives. Nice guy. Smells like coffee and quiet despair. He takes one look behind the wall and says the five words no homeowner wants to hear: “Yeah… that’s gonna be extra.” Apparently our pipes were installed by someone who hated future generations. They zigzagged like a drunk snake. One section was held together with what appeared to be hope and duct tape.

Phase 3: Tile Tetris We chose these gorgeous large-format gray tiles. “Modern! Sleek! Timeless!” screamed the showroom lady. Reality: They are the size of small billboards. Cutting them required a diamond blade, industrial ear protection, and prayers to every god of geometry. My partner (who suddenly became a tile expert after watching three TikToks) insisted we could do it ourselves. Spoiler: We could not. We ended up with one row that looks like it’s trying to escape the wall. It’s giving “modern art” if modern art was drunk and angry. Pro tip: When the thinset bucket says “workable time 30 minutes,” they mean 30 minutes if you’re a caffeinated octopus. Not two exhausted humans arguing about levelness at 10 p.m.

Phase 4: The Shower Door Incident  – The frameless glass shower door arrived. Beautiful. Heavy. Judgmental. Installing it required the precision of brain surgery and the strength of a minor god. We got it in place. Celebrated with warm LaCroix. Then I closed it. It touched the tile by 1/16 of an inch. The entire door screamed like a banshee. Scratched the brand-new porcelain. We cried. Not real tears—just the kind that leak out when your bank account and your pride are both hemorrhaging.

Phase 5: The Grand Finale (aka The Part Where We Almost Divorced Over Grout) Grout day. The final boss. We chose bright white grout because “it’ll look clean forever.” Narrator voice: It did not. Within 48 hours it looked like someone had spilled coffee on snow. Apparently we are disgusting people who splash water like feral otters. We now own six different grout cleaners. Our bathroom smells like a chemical spill at a lemon factory.

The Reveal Is the bathroom gorgeous now? Yes. Spa-like rainfall shower? Check. Floating vanity that makes me feel like a rich adult? Check. Toilet with bidet attachment that basically high-fives your soul? Glorious. Do I flinch every time someone uses more than three squares of toilet paper? Also yes. Do I whisper “please don’t scratch the tiles” like they’re newborn kittens? Every single day.

Final Verdict Total cost: Somewhere between “college tuition for one kid” and “small yacht down payment.” Time: 6 weeks instead of the promised 10 days. Emotional damage: Permanent. Would I do it again? …Maybe. But next time I’m hiring professionals, buying stock in whatever company makes anxiety medication, and never trusting a YouTube thumbnail that says “Easy Weekend Project.”

Moral of the story: A remodeled bathroom is like marriage—you go in thinking it’ll be all rose petals and champagne, but you end up with caulk in your hair, mystery stains, and a deep, abiding respect for plumbers.

If you’re thinking about remodeling your bathroom… Bless your heart. Send help. And maybe bring wine….oh and call the professionals.  Folkers is one of those professionals.