Last month, we were down to one bathroom, and it almost killed us. It all started with the digging. When we first moved into our house, the 2nd floor had a bathroom that hadn’t been renovated since, say, 1960. That was fine with us; we accepted it “as is” & made do.  It was an old, crumbling bathroom, but it fulfilled the basics. And considering that it was located on Sorority Row (aka “the second floor of our house, where all the girls live”), it got LOTS of use.  Granted, the tub leaked occasionally, and the toilet would overflow randomly. But it worked… until even the tiny floor tiles got…