Instant Bathroom
The owner of this house (full disclosure: it’s my brother…) tried to unload it last summer, and found that the snobby buyers in that price range in this economy were no longer happy with just view, architecture, and location, but also found the existing 2 1/2 bathrooms inadequate. They required a master bath, and henceforth no offers were forthcoming, and it’s easy to understand why. The second floor had two enormous bedrooms and one good sized one with only one bathroom to serve them, which was pretty typical back in 1930. 
Unfortunately, the bedroom closest to the plumbing stack with two large adjacent closets into which a bathroom might easily fit faced the front of the house, away from the view and the south light, and the bathroom could not have a window.
There was, however, a strip of closets between the two other bedrooms, the smaller of which had a large window facing the view. Putting a bathroom there, though, would require the removal and replacement of walls for two floors below to access the wastewater outfalls, and offer a lot less space to throw around. But it was worth a try, and after careful examination I figured it could be done, and between the owner, the plumbers, and me, we came up with something that only required shaving 26″ off one side of the new “master” bedroom (it went from 13′ 9″ x 15′ to 13′ 9″ x 12′ 10″ ) and preserved the rod space, if not the square footage, of the original closet. We added a closet in a corner of the smaller bedroom under a slope in the roof, and a similar corner is ready and waiting if the buyer wants more closet space in the master, but we decided not to do it right now.
For what we lacked in space, we decided to try to make up for in period details. The shower is enclosed by an archway that mimics several downstairs, and the flooring is old-fashioned hexagonal tile like the kind in the main floor powder room. All of the woodwork matches the other woodwork in the house, and the pocket door is an original door repurposed for its new job. 
The kind of kooky tile in the shower resulted from the fact that we had about half of the tile we needed left over from an aborted backsplash replacement in the kitchen, but didn’t want to wait around or spend extra money to get the custom color, which at any rate couldn’t be promised would match. I said, get half and half, and I’ll think of something. ( It’s actually much subtler than it looks in the picture, but I still think it’s kind of fun and interesting.)
I’m happy to report that the project came in only about $500 over its original $17,000 budget, and the realtor thought it looked like $50,000. Now it’s time to let the “market” decide.
I love these posts about your work. It gives me hope that I might some day make my tiny crackerbox look like something cool.
It was a fun project; of the sort that I do a lot; squeezing a bathroom somewhere that no one ever thought of.
Agree emphatically with Pedinska! It’s really fun reading about your innovative projects, Hag.
Thanks, Harpie. Sadly, a lot of the really big projects have kind of dried up since the crash, so the material isn’t as exciting as it once was.
The touches like the pointed arch for the shower give it so much more class. You are very good at renovation. I wonder if all the bathrooms for my favorite TV show Extreme Makeover Home Edition are so large has helped to convince homeowners to want larger master bedrooms and bathrooms.
Unfortunately, often they sacrifice a whole bedroom to squeeze one in; something we weren’t willing to do. We saw a lot of houses like that when Ted was looking for this one; 3000 square feet and two bedrooms.
You’re an artist CH. The finishing-work looks impeccable.
Thanks. I’m extremely fussy with details, for better or worse.
That’s really artistic, CH.
I particularly like the use of the corner space where you’ve sited the toilet and cupboard.
And I’m a sucker for window casings, too.
There’s a guy here in Les Bois who does similar work and made really nice upgrades to my place when I bought it.
I really enjoy seeing your work.
Visually and verbally artistic–man, that’s no fair to those of us whose artistry extends no further than scribbling down the grocery list and coming up with a use for balsamic vinegar.
Aw, shucks, T3; you’re very kind. I’m also very good at making loud fart sounds with my elbow, and teaching this skill to children.
So I are an artiste too!
I’m also very good at making loud fart sounds with my elbow, and teaching this skill to children.
And people say you’ve gotta visit the loo-vre.
I missed the Loo-vre when I was in Paris, but I did like Orsay… especially Caillebotte’s, “The Planers.”
Design/build is the way to make the money, hag. Good work!
Don’t forget your percentage for “restoration” too, when that’s called for.
Restoration is something of a niche market for me; I always prefer to save old woodwork and cabinetry when possible, and I’m very good at unsticking windows and replacing sash weights, things few contractors bother to do anymore.
Yeah, my Swedish uncles taught me some arcane things like that.
Here and there, I’ve amused myself watching a homeowner while I opened the mysteries of an old double-hung window right before their eyes.
In that way, I think “preservation.”
There are a lot of good, wooden double-hungs still around, quite serviceable under the right TLC.
There’s nothing nicer than a smoothly operating window that glides easily with the touch of a finger…. I fixed dozens of them in the old apartment building I used to manage.
Also had many discussions about painting a room where the homeowner looks at the window and says, “They don’t go up and down very well; and the uppers don’t work at all.”
And I say: “That’s because they were painted shut. Usually the best thing to do is open ‘em up a bit, at least by removing these guides here on the sides running up from the sill. See?”
“Oh … “
My method is to cut out the paint first with a linoleum knife, then wedge folded pieces of sandpaper in the track and slide the window up and down until it moves smoothly. Then, once it’s open, I sand out the track, and that’s usually enough without having to pull out the guides. Upper windows often still have the original cords and weights intact because they’ve been painted shut for so long.
Yep, that’s the cheapest.
Gee, we should do a video for all the commenters here!
“Hag & Dirigo’s Tricks Of The Trade”
$10 on a DVD, mailed. Or just download it!
Actually, I’ve thought of that. I’ve taught several people the mysteries of painting woodwork using oil paint, strainers, linseed oil conditioner, and 400 grit between coats sanding, and it’s almost a lost art. One time a building inspector spied my “lab,” and got into a half hour discussion about the science of woodwork painting, and he had to hurriedly leave without noticing all the asbestos in the basement. Win, win.
I could also do a slate seminar, since I’m about the only person I know who does that correctly…
Next slow news day or attack of writer’s block.
My God. A master builder and an artist for $17.5K? This is something of a minor miracle, Hag. I’ve seen butcher jobs that cost three times that, as I’m sure you have. Your brother is lucky in his choice of siblings.
On the other hand, that was the average price of a (suburban cracker-box) ranch house in the early Sixties. Like they say, tempus fugit.
Actually, my parents paid $15,250 for our large and lovely house in 1962; it’s probably worth about $700,000 today.
T – nice job for the jobs.
love,
T
Everyone, including the boys, has already tried it out, if you know what I mean and I think you do. The industrial grade exhaust fan seems to work pretty well, too.
Thanks. I’m extremely fussy with details, for better or worse.
For the better. Nice work!
Never heard the sandpaper thing. Sending this to my brothers. One has a house of unfinished ( & god-awful) projects.The bathroom tile is vertigo-inducing. He’s re-done about half of the house so far . His wife likes salvage, especially woodwork.
The other, your other brother Darrell, [ The Hag has a double.;)] , recently bought a monument to the 60′s . Nothing has changed, inside or out since it was built, right down to the electric-rust shag carpet.
~)
Sounds nice. Some houses of that era were pretty cool, especially the ones with high beamed ceilings and lots of glass. Not so big on the shag, though. I’ve always found all forms of wall-to-wall carpeting a tad disgusting… you would too if you’d ripped out a lot of it when it’s old and filthy.
I have a good friend, a theater colleague actually.
He has a big house here in the Connecticut town I live in, which he kind of got roped into buying.
It was built before 1750, and in today’s repair, remodeling, or restoration terms, it’s a nightmare as it stands. It has historical significance in that it was a terminus on the underground railroad before and during the Civil War, though it’s not protected by state landmark status. The basement is full of ghosts. It could be a jewel if restored, but it would be extremely expensive, probably three of four dollars, or more, for every normal dollar spent in today’s work terms.
My friend knows nothing about taking care of houses. Zero. I help keep things together, literally, bartering for help with my acting.
Recently, he came to me, eyes drooping in a hound dog face, and asked for help with the house. He acted as though the roof had caved in.
I asked about the problem.
“Water in the upstairs toilet keeps running after it’s flushed,” he said, staring at the floor. “I had to shut off the line underneath.”
I went upstairs, opened the line, took the top off the tank, flushed it a few times, and could see the rubber flapper wasn’t settling right to seal the drain.
I walked downstairs.
“Well?” my friend said.
“I hate to tell you, Louis: you’re probably going to have to backhoe off the kitchen to get to the main line and maybe trench out to the town sewer hook-up. May be a dead rat somewhere in the pipe. I noticed an awful smell when I flushed. Could be ten or fifteen grand to start.”
He looked at me.
Then I smiled.
“No actually, it’s the flapper. It’s worn out. Need a new one.”
He smiled back, getting the joke.
“So how much will that be?”
“Ten bucks for the kit; and of course, per our usual barter arrangement, I’ll install it. Won’t have to pay the plumber’s $75 minimum.”
And that was that.
I’m always tempted to tell scary fibs like that to homeowners; especially if they’re prone to crying.
And, being a Swede, I know I could generate a full-blown, on the job case of Stockholm Syndrome at almost any time, through the various methods of milking the job and other dilatory tactics which experienced tradesmen know about.
But while I’ve seen a lot of that, I’ve never really done it myself. Not habitually at least.
I would never do that to Tom, unless his polemics got completely out of control.
Lol ,dirigo. That’s cruel, but funny.
“No actually, it’s the flapper. It’s worn out. Need a new one.”
My brother went to the hardware store for that exact problem, with the 4yr-old (call him “A.”) in tow.Didn’t tell him why. Once inside,A. asked why they were there . Bro told told him that the toilet was broken, and he needed to fix it. The kid replied…… “No actually, it’s the flapper. It’s worn out. Need a new one.” Then explained the process.
Bro was speechless. A just looks at things, not usually even getting hands on, and can see how they work . I feel like a half-blind monkey with mittens, in comparison. 
That’s what you want in a kid. Once they learn to hand you the tools, if you’re smart you can get them hanging drywall by the time they’re ten or so.
Mike, I’m actually not as good at this stuff as many friends I have, or hag. I just grew up taking care of some properties in the family and happened to have these Viking uncles who passed down varieties of mysterious wisdom along the way; and as hag says, it starts with one unc yelling from the basement, or on top of a ladder: “Hand me that pair of pliers will ya?”
Later, as I kept working on jobs with other sharp contractors, often from the need to make a day’s pay, I saw many times how the flapper game was played, where a small job could be inflated to ten times its size, leading to a nice over-priced deal.
As Buckminster Fuller used to say, referring to the building trades: It’s craft and graft.
Hi I am so delighted I found your blog, I really found you by mistake, while I was looking on Yahoo for Small Bathroom Designs, Anyways I am here now and would just like to say thanks for a tremendous post and a all round entertaining blog (I also love the theme/design), I don’t have time to read it all at the moment but I have bookmarked it and also added your RSS feeds, so when I have time I will be back to read more, Please do keep up the great work. .