Sometimes, you need to trace your clawfoot tub on a big piece of cardboard with a Sharpie pen, cut it out with scissors, and lay it on the floor in order to really see how much room it occupies.
Sometimes, all the sophisticated 3D software you install on your computer can't take the place of a roll of black electrical tape.
Sometimes, your non-architect wife can't read architectural drawings and insists that the proposed bathroom layout just won't work.
The closet at the north end of the hallway has been sacrificed to make room for a shower and sink.
Sometimes, the wife is wrong and the husband is right.
The second floor bathroom will have both a shower and the clawfoot tub plus the sink it's been missing for 91 years.