That's so Frank

Frank is the greatest admirer of his own home improvement projects. His latest might push me over the edge.

Our house has an internal bathroom--it's located in the exact center of the house. The room is extremely small, a condition made more obvious because the location means it is windowless and dark if the light isn't switched on. The bathroom itself was hideously ugly when we bought the house. The ceramic tile on the walls was a mustard-gold speckle on an off-white background. The toilet was gold and had a plastic tank. The sink was old, faux ceramic with glittery gold streaks blended among brown swirls. The vanity was stapled together and listing to one side. The walls may have been white at one time, and they were embellished with a pink floral Victorian-themed wallpaper border along the top edge. The floor was covered with roll-out vinyl faux tile that had become torn and curled up at the edges of the room. Apparently, no one had remembered to buy the adhesive. (That is not our bathroom in the picture, although the glow looks familiar.)

I designed an extensive makeover that included soft gold paint on the walls, a new, nearly silent fan, new light fixture, new power-flush toilet, a gorgeous wood vanity with a sink that sort of swoops forward, and the floor is 12-inch travertine marble tiles. We couldn't afford to swap out the wall tile, the shower surround or the gold tub, but once the room was painted and we installed a sage-green shower curtain, a green painted cabinet, and sage green towels, everything worked together incredibly well. The room is sophisticated and attractive despite its small size. But it's dark.

Maybe what happened next is really my fault. I commented that I wished there were a way to brighten up the shower area because it was really too dark for activities like leg shaving (which I only need to do about five times a year, anyway). I said, "Wouldn't it be awesome to have a skylight in here?"

This put in motion a four-year odyssey of Frank relentlessly researching skylights and calcuating the ways one could be installed, given several structural challenges. Eventually, we decided that a sun tunnel would be the way to go. Of course, which one to buy required another two years of research. Frank debated the pros and cons of different sizes and tube finishes--merely silvery or full-on mirrored?

I weighed in with my opinion: "Buy the biggest one that will fit between the ceiling joists." And so he did, but only after concluding that the skylight would fit only over the tub, above the end opposite the faucet. It would be like having an overhead light in the otherwise dimly lit shower.

Eight or nine months after all of the components were purchased, Frank finally installed the skylight. It is pretty fabulous. The entire room is illuminated and bathed in a soft, sunny glow. In the tub itself, there is actual sun glare on the porcelain. Of course, Frank scrubbed the tub after finishing the installation specifically to garner this result. He's very proud of his work, I can tell. I keep finding him in the bathroom, just standing there, looking up at the ceiling and admiring the installation.

For five years, I have always made a point of closing the shower curtain before leaving the bathroom in the morning. When I lived alone, this wasn't a big issue for me, but Frank likes the way it looks, and he really is his mother's son in so many ways. I have learned to conform to the shower curtain arrangement.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I found the shower curtain pushed into the center of the rod every time I entered the bathroom. I push it the length of the rod, I come back and it's clumped at the center. It's like living with a defiant ghost who has fixated on sage green crinkly satin.

"Frank, what's up with the shower curtain? Are you still gluing or something in there?"

Frank looked at me and blinked. "Nooo. The curtain is too dark. It hides the light. Maybe we should get glass doors instead."

His words struck fear into my heart. I grew up with sliding glass shower doors in a house that had water so hard it would knock on your head when you took a shower. Glass doors were a nightmare to clean, and although cleaning chemicals have evolved since then, I can't imagine cleaning the glass is that much easier. Minerals are an economic anchor in this state and that is reflected in the water.

I glanced in the bathroom. The door was not only wide open, but pushed as far open as the laws of physics would allow. The hallway was bathed in the soft light spilling from the bathroom. "Frank, the shower curtain is not inhibiting the light. It's like a sunny day in there. You could tan or get caught up on your daily dose of vitamin D just by going in there to pee. Stop it with the shower curtain."

Today I noticed the Bed, Bath & Beyond flyer was opened on the kitchen counter. Shower curtains. Pale, floaty fabric shower curtains. They do not match the color scheme. They do not afford much privacy.

Frank. The skylight is lovely and the bathroom is great just the way it is. Back away from the 20% off coupon. Now.