I'm cleaning my teeth and looking around at my 1960s bathroom. Far from being the kind of luxe retreat gracing the pages of glossy home magazines, this bathroom is like a B-list actor: it played a few good roles in its younger days but never made headlines.
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Previous owners have attempted a makeover by painting the mottled grey wall tiles in a matte cream paint. This is now peeling off, especially in the shower where my 11-year-old appears to be chipping out a Ned Kelly-likeness next to the wall-mounted soap dish.
The unmatched stippled glass in the two small windows is wrapped in rusty steel frames and the stepped plaster ceiling is spotted with mould that won't budge - even with bleach and a hard-bristled brush.
The floor is an ongoing source of embarrassment. The tiny blue-grey herringbone tiles are so tired and stained that even when thoroughly cleaned they could give the loo in Trainspotting a run for the money in a world's worst restroom competition.
The pink bath is in good nick, but the dull enamel surface is a bugger to clean and the ornate black porcelain spout is severed, allowing a vigorous flow of water to gush out on an almost horizontal plane.
Yes, it's a sad and sorry space - a space that I will continue to share with my husband and two boys (aged 11 and 13) until demolition day. It's not unusual to find all four of us crowded into the grim surrounds, one shaver, one blow-dryer, a couple of teeth-cleaners jostling for space at the basin.
It shouldn't bother me: I grew up in a one-bathroom house with four brothers. Throw parents into the mix and you've got all-out war morning and night. But those were the good old days.
As an adult, two bathrooms have been the norm and in our reincarnated house we'll have not two but three gloriously new bathrooms. I would have settled for two, but in the interests of capitalising on the demands of north shore property buyers, our architect has eked out space for a ground-floor guest bathroom, with a family bathroom and master en suite in the upstairs extension.
With our development application just approved, we're now immersed in choosing finishes, fixtures and fittings. Coloured or traditional tapware? Patterned or neutral tiles? Free-standing or built-in bath? In-wall or wall-faced toilet?
As the hours of trawling through the internet and home magazines rack-up - not to mention many an evening gathering design ideas from The Block and Grand Designs - a madness born of decision fatigue sets in.
I'm worn out - must be time for bed. Do I really want to tackle this reno? Hundreds upon hundreds of decisions to make to turn our three-bedroom, one-bathroom eyesore into a four-bedroom plus study, three-bathroom home.
I head to the bathroom to clean my teeth. For the umpteenth time I let my eyes wander around the room, cataloguing its many shortcomings. This is the perfect place to come when the jitters set in.
I can't wait to renovate.
