After work, Joe and I head to the place where his parents got their vanity made. After way too much discussion for a 30-inch cabinet, we order the Yorktowne Avondale in cherry with raised-panel butted doors, and a butternut finish.
It’s okay, for a traditional, plain wood toekick vanity. Which is to say, for something that’s the exact opposite of what I want. To rub salt in the wound, when we gutted the bathroom, I saw that our plumbing doesn’t actually come out of the floor at all, which was the main reason Joe gave me for not being able to do a wall mount or a furniture-type piece there. The bastard.
But I’m utterly exhausted with fighting over it, so I resigned myself to this traditional crap. In fact, I was so exhausted that for the first time ever, I retracted my foot after putting it firmly down. There’s an optional upgrade you can get to cover the exposed plywood sides of the cabinet with a solid wood panel that matches the doors. Solid wood is one of Joe’s big hang-ups. He thinks everything else is cheap.
I thought this was clearly hideous, but then, I didn’t even want raised-panel doors. We actually stepped outside in the parking lot to discuss it, mano a mano, and I told him in no uncertain terms: I gave in on the style, I gave in on the wood, I gave in on the granite top—nothing about this vanity is remotely what I want, so I do not want to pay extra for additional unattractiveness.
But when we got inside, he was so tortured over it, just really agonized, that I did the unthinkable. I told him to just do it. Just get it if it means that much to you.
And then, he didn’t.
So is that how I win now? Reverse psychology? Not that I call that winning. This is me winning.
Sigh. But I guess we do need the storage space, since this is our one and only bathroom, and small at that. There will be other battles though, and I plan to win the war.