Step one of casa de Fierce Beagle's master bathroom renovation: surgical removal of all removable objects. Including the toilet.
I have a thing about toilets. They gross me out, even if they're sparkling clean. And this has nothing to do with the fact that I've spent the last two years worshiping the porcelain gods way more than should be humanly possible (pregnancy, sickness; surgery, sickness; sickness, sickness). My Loo Loathing has been around far longer than that.
My gross-out factor is literally so strong that if I have, say, a piece of candy in my mouth, I can't enter the bathroom for any reason until I've swallowed--or unless I hold my breath (even if the room is odorless). Although, bathrooms are never really odorless. The scent of damp porcelain is gag-inducing to me. I'm not one of those people that drink a glass of wine while soaking in the tub, for the toilet will be there, staring at me, like a weird stranger on the train whose mother never taught him that it's rude to be creepy. Ew.
Needless to say, Noah handled the extraction.
I know all six of you are anxiously awaiting photos; never fear, I have taken the befores and will post as soon as we have afters. Which will hopefully be before our marriage dies by DIY renovation.