While the War of the Tub rages over the skies of Camelot, daily life goes on with as much normalcy as we can muster. No, we have not evacuated our children to the countryside to live in the old manor house of an elderly professor. Yet.
Actually, the best I could manage to find was a rusty double-wide inhabited by Earl and Lurlene Bumpass and their sixty-four hounddogs. I think I’ll wait and see if the Axis of Whirlpool crumples before our straits become so desperate as that.
I’m still looking for a compromise. I thought I found one last week, but my dear husband is hard coming to terms with the fact that if I want a freestanding bath and he wants a whirlpool, compromise means an acrylic jetted tub. And acrylic “feels cheap” (to him). Unless it is cheap, namely the acrylic drop-in tub he wanted in the first place, which feels fine to him. Go figure.
Even so, I couldn’t resist playing with the photos of my bathroom, ala Layla, to help us envision what we’re aiming toward.
The colors may be a little off — I haven’t made a final decision on the wall or cabinet paint and the floor tile looks more green than it should. The scale of the subway tile, and perhaps other things, is also off a bit. But this is the general idea.
This is a compromise tub. It’s jetted, to please the Axis powers, and freestanding for the sake of the Allies. I’m not a huge fan of clawfeet, and would probably prefer white to chrome, but I was trying to meet him in the middle and this is all I could find.
I could live with it, but I no love it.
And of course, as I keep looking, trying to find tubs to please us both in every possible way, I keep finding tubs I love. Pricey ones. Ouch.
This is the Marlborough by Victoria + Albert. I love this tub. It’s huge: 74 inches long. It’s made out of “rare volcanic limestone and resin.” It’s one piece of solid tub-tastic-ness. I want it.
By the way, the real Marlboroughs live here:
I couldn’t find a picture of their tub. But I’ll bet it’s nice.
The Marlborough tub would bring a little Blenheim to my bathroom. But I have this hangup about spending three [gasp…choke, choke] thousand dollars on a bathtub. Even if we had the money, I don’t think my constitution would allow me to hand it over for something which could functionally be replaced by a horse trough.
The only prayer I have is trolling the web until I find it at some impossible bargain. Maybe Victoria + Albert will decide to part ways and have a liquidation sale. Maybe the Marlboroughs will sue for proprietary use of their name and bankrupt the company, triggering a massive short sale of their entire inventory.
Okay, yes, I’m really grasping for straws. Chances are better I’d win the Lottery.
The Lottery. Hmmm…