In our modern world, living in an industrialized country, we have water at our fingertips. It flows freely into our bathtubs, from our showerheads, through our garden hoses, spouts out of sprinklers, and fills our kitchen sinks…until it doesn’t.
The faucet on our kitchen sink broke recently. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I called a handyman neighbor who very nicely came over and diagnosed the problem. He then told me that the manufacturer of the faucet would replace the broken part free of charge. So I called the faucet company and sure enough, they agreed to send a replacement part as soon as possible—promising that it would arrive in a few days.
Meanwhile, my daughter (who was visiting us) jerry-rigged the faucet with pliers. It worked for a few days—we were able to turn the water on and off with little effort. Then a little piece broke off the metal thing-a -ma-bob that we attached the pliers to. And now I had a kitchen faucet that was no longer functional–and my daughter had gone home. Not a big problem—right?
Except it was—every time I went to rinse my hands while cooking, rinse glop off a plate, wash coffee down the sink, or wash a pot, I had no water. I lugged water from the near-by bathroom—and as, you know, water is heavy. So then I started to use paper towels to wipe off plates and a wet towel to wipe my hands. While this may not seem like a big deal, as the days passed, it became more and more inconvenient. I began to think about the pioneers and how hard it must have been to lug water in buckets from a stream. I thought about people who camp, and choose to do dishes this inconvenient way. Mostly, I longed for the day my faucet would again be functional.
The necessary piece came in the mail as promised. I called the handyman and he was able to come and fix the faucet—it took about 15 minutes.
So, now I joyfully turn my newly functional faucet on, reveling in the freely flowing water. And feel very grateful that I live in this century not earlier times when a kitchen faucet was unheard of and water was lugged by the bucket.
I can just imagine you carrying those heavy clay pots, like our African sisters do, walking inches and inches from one sink to the other.
I had a problem like this years ago in another house and I can sympathize with you.
Long ago when my children were young, my water heater broke and I had to wait about a week for the landlord to fix it. What a lesson in how spoiled we are in this country! I didn’t even have to travel miles for firewood to heat my water like women do in Africa, just pop it in a pot on the gas range, but I felt like my world had fallen apart. Until that moment I took hot water for granted, but since then, there has never been a time that I made a list of blessings where hot water wasn’t somewhere near the top of the list.
Wish I had known about the replacement policy. A little part broke in my kitchen faucet that didn’t interfere with the faucet’s functioning as long as I ever so gingerly lifted the handle so as not to knock it off the base. I went to Lowe’s to try to find a new part and could find nothing even vaguely like it. I bought a whole new faucet at over a $100 and paid over a $100 more just to have it installed