Biscuits in the Bathroom

So I've been trying to makeover my kitchen table and chairs, but I'm not making a lot of progress.  For one thing, the weather hasn't been cooperative. Like the rest of the country, springtime seems to be playing hide and seek with Dixie.

For another thing, I'm not thrilled about the table. What I'd really like is to find an old farmhouse table to makeover, something with big old farmhouse legs like the one I did for The Practical One last year.

Unfortunately, my farmhouse table money has quite literally
gone down the toilet. 

. In case you didn't notice, it's leaking...

Apparently in her travels from powder room to deck to garage and back again, Little Miss Powder Room Toilet ended up a a wee bit cracked.  I had no choice but to make yet another trip to the local home improvement store to replace her. A small matter, you say. How expensive can a toilet be?

If you're looking for a basic white toilet, not very.

Unfortunately, I'm not looking for a basic white toilet. Nooooo... I'm looking for a specific shade of off white called biscuit. 

That's because the house with the big fat '80s kitchen also came complete with 3.5 big fat '80s bathrooms, and big fat '80s bathrooms were outfitted in  biscuit, bone, almond, or whatever name the big- haired decorating diva of the day decided to call that spin of the color wheel.

 Honestly '80s people, what were we thinking? Did the words harvest gold and avocado not sound an alarm?

source

Apparently not, since my house  like many others of the era came complete with with semi-permanent fixtures which are nearly impossible to match.

I don't want to match them.

 I don't want a biscuit toilet. 

I want a simple, white toilet. Considering the toilet's job description, I don't want to spend a huge amount  of money on it, either.  I don't care about dual flushers and elongated seats with self closing lids. With no apologies to the environmentalists out there, I don't even care how much water it uses. The toilet in question is rarely used.

Unfortunately, I can't change out the toilet in that room unless I also change out the sink. Don't tell me to try it. I tried it. We bought a white toilet, but it looked stupid so we took it back. Then, I went all over town looking for a biscuit colored one with no success. Apparently, you have to special order biscuit colored toilets. You pay for that big haired '80s look, too. They cost at least a hundred dollars more than a comparable white one.

For a toilet that I would eventually want to replace anyway

 because, well, it's biscuit. 

For the price of one bathroom biscuit, I could have purchased a white one and a pedestal sink had I known I would need to. Since I didn't know, I  tiled around the existing vanity. The pedestal sink option is no longer on the table.   .

I guess I could cough up a little more money and replace the vanity top and sink, thus freeing one (half) bathroom from biscuit bondage. Of course, a new sink would  necessitate a new faucet. It would most likely destroy the  surrounding wallpaper to get the old one out as well. If I strip the wallpaper, I have to fix the sheet rock behind it. That's the reason the wallpaper was put up to begin with.  Now folks, I was planning to do all of that. I just wasn't planning to do it right now. 

Right now, I was planning to address the table and chairs.
And then, I was planning to do nothing for a while.

So last night, that's exactly what I decided to do:. Nothing... for a while.

After a good night's sleep, I made the bold decision to continue doing nothing for a while.  Since the water has been sucked out of the soggy biscuit, it's not an emergency. I am going to take a week or two to figure out what I want to do. Visitors will just have to visit the Siberian Crathroom should the need arise.

And just for good measure, I decided to yak this most recent adventure abroad and throw myself on the mercy of good advice.

So, what would you do?  

And is anyone else out there suffering from the biscuit bathroom blues?