I recently had a vacation with the extended family.  We rented a big house during the off-season at a resort area — so cheap. My family took pity on me because I had been unwell lately and because I currently live in a home with only one bathroom that I share with my five kids, though one is away at school.

So even though I don’t have a “Master,” per se  (gag me),  they let me have one of the master bedrooms.  This  meant I had my very own bathroom.

My very own bathroom. It was a thing of beauty.  It had a jacuzzi tub and a separate shower, a private water closet and — space! I could dance in my bathroom.  I briefly considered holding some sort of meeting there. It had more floor space than my current family room has.  Plus, I didn’t have to make an announcement before I showered in case others had to use the bathroom first and I didn’t have to use the bathroom quickly before someone else took a shower.   For a week, I didn’t have to wade my way through acne products on the sink and teen clothes left on the floor.

My glorious bathroom also had double sinks.  I’ve discussed the double sink thing before, at Double Sinks in the Master Bath –Must We Have them, Really?  One of the problematic issues about them being standard in new construction is the fact that not everyone is coupled up.  The sinks are kind of a throw-back to the assumption that the heads of the households — the ones who deserve the best rooms — are always a couple.

Now, I loved having my own bathroom for a week.   I am not complaining.  It was an indulgence I’m sure many have on a daily basis, but for me?  I was living like a queen, albeit temporarily.  Still, I felt slightly silly in this bathroom.  It may have been the double sinks.  This was a bathroom built for two.  Every time I went to wash my hands or brush my teeth or wash my face, it reminded me, ever so subtly,  that I am single, occupying this space meant for a couple.  The suite also had a king sized bed, and I have to admit that, after all these years, I’m still sleeping on “my side of the bed.”

Whatever.

I took turns using first one sink and then the other so that neither one would feel left out.  (That’s my throw-back to having twins. Keep it equal as much as I can, in an effort to keep them out of therapy.) Inexplicably, I also locked the door to the water closet when I was in there.  I guess I didn’t want my non-existent ghost husband to walk in on me when nature called as he breezed in to shave over “his” sink.

From “The Others” but was her husband real?

Oh wait, no one was going to use that other sink.

I was the master of my bathroom domain.

Elaine, from Seinfeld

Oh well.   I loved having this huge bathroom all to myself for a vacation, but if I had actually purchased a home with double sinks that I’d have to look at day in and out? That would kind of piss me off. Contractors, realtors, HGTV  — take note.

The master bath also came with two sets of towels — I guess for my invisible ghost man.

I used those, too.

Just Me With . . . one shower, one bathtub, one toilet, TWO sinks and a bunch of towels — Just For Me. 

Double Sinks in the Master Bath — Must We Have Them?  Really? 

An Argument Against the Open Floor Plan

Still Sleeping on My Side of the Bed