Vacant for years except for feral cats, the 1890s house was a total wreck and I knew it. Still, it was the one and only bathroom that was almost a deal breaker for me. It was filthy, the ceiling was so low I could barely stand upright in the tub, and as the daughter of a contractor I worried that the cast-iron tub would crash through the bouncing, spongy floors.
I was right to be worried. During renovation,
