Running Hot

There’s been a revolution in this 600 year old house we call home, something that it’s never seen before, something that most everyone takes for granted.  We got used to living without it, but its presence is something we quickly adapted to: hot water in the kitchen.  That’s right, for the entire existence of this house, including the six years I’ve lived here, there has been no running hot water in the kitchen.  That all changed this last week.  Thanks to the hard work of a dear friend, we are no longer obliged to get hot water from the bathroom to do the dishes.  Well, in the summer that is; in the winter we heated water in a kettle on the wood heater.

You might ask how one accepts that, from living with modern convinces to stepping back a few generations in simplicity.  I don’t have an easy answer.  It’s something one gets used, something we would think about fixing, and then something that would get bounced back farther down on the ‘To Do” list.  The project was always there in front of us, but there were obstacles.  The stone sink is small and shallow and the window above it ruled out most facets.  It was our friend, not us, who eventually found two possible fits after searching one of France’s largest metropolitans; both options were found in a specialty shop known mostly only to professionals.

New pipes were fitted and old ones removed, revealing a few surprises.  Once again, nothing “standard” was found and pipe locations had to be moved to place the hot water logically on the left side.  A new spigot was formed to fit the shallow sink and pipes were meticulously checked and rechecked to make sure they were level.  It was more than a job well done; it was something that removed one of the funky quirks of the house – the explanation to those who visited there is an amendment to the manual.  It made things more normal; at least as normal as anything in this house can get.

Even though we live in a house that is older than the United States, I have been given back a bit of modernity and a chance to have “been there, done that” and come out on the other side more grateful for the little things I have.

Now, if the dishes only washed themselves.... yes, that would be something.  What’s that you say?  There is something called a dishwasher?  I’ll have to check into that.