Our house was built in 1958--when bubble-gum pink and powder blue were all the rage in bathroom tiles. (Apparently no one slept in a Queen-sized bed, either, because we cannot get a box spring up our stairs... but I digress.) When we moved to Colorado, it was at the height of a seller's real estate market. There was so much competition for houses, especially in the neighborhood we wanted to live in, which was 2 blocks from the school where David was teaching. When we found out that the owners of this house were looking to sell, we pounced. It really didn't matter what the inside looked like: we wanted it!
It has been a great house, but, alas, the upstairs bathroom is very pink. Can you also see how small it it? All 5 of us share it. I, personally, think we deserve some kind of medal for that. Feel free to nominate me. The first few years we lived here, we invested our money in other house projects, and the pink bathroom stayed. We got used to it. It's quirkiness grew on us. Indeed, it became fun. It's also the place Carver and Lily were potty trained. It's the place I quickly learned that a certain un-circumcised Ethiopian should NOT stand to pee. It was the place to be for the Great Food Poisoning Epidemic of '02 and '07. It was a great place to stick the kids on a bad day--filling up the tub with bubbles and toys and letting them have at it. And it was the one room our realtor said, "Welllllllll......" (insert dramatic pause.)
Today there is a company coming that sprays an acrylic coating over tiles like ours and makes them look brand new and less appalling. Good bye, my pink friend. You've been good to us.