Too late. The floor had other plans.
Lena peered into the crawl space below. Through the jagged hole in the floor, she could see the living room ceiling. Specifically, she could see the ceiling fan spinning lazily directly beneath the bathroom. bathtub stuck
A crack spiderwebbed across the bathroom tiles. Then another. The entire floor—a six-foot-by-eight-foot chunk of plywood, linoleum, and rot—began to tilt like a seesaw. Lena yelped and scrambled backward into the hallway. The tub, still stubbornly attached, rose two inches, three, then settled at a drunken angle, one claw still gripping the concrete like a stubborn cat on a screen door. Too late
So she improvised.
The New Yorker wrote a profile titled “The Bathtub That Ate the Bathroom.” A structural engineer offered to fix the floor for free in exchange for naming rights to the show. Lena declined. She’d grown fond of the arrangement. Through the jagged hole in the floor, she