“I don’t know at what point the faucet manufacturers became designers and decided that it was better to have neither F nor Q, much less brands and colors on every faucet.”
In the house where I grew up with my brothers and sisters, the bathroom faucets had an F and a Q. On the F, a blue dot; on the Q, a red one. That’s right. Two taps, each signaling its basic function of telling you what to expect from each. Expectations aligned. At the time, we shared a bathroom down the hall; the girls slept in one room and my older brother in another. In the morning rush, it was essential to see the letters and colors to avoid getting confused and burning yourself in the hot water of the sink. In the shower faucet, however, the functions were reversed, so the hot tap was cold and the cold tap was hot. In any case, we quickly learned its new functions and knew how to operate them precisely.
Well, I don’t know exactly at what point the faucet manufacturers became designers and decided that it was better to have no F or Q, much less brands and colors on every faucet. I assume they thought the letters and colors were in bad taste. So we are left to guesswork. As I write this, I am in New York for a three-day job. From day one I noticed the sink with its beautiful and enigmatic faucets, as well as the beautiful shower, which, to my confusion, has not just two, but four faucets, each with its own function that must have been thought out . precisely but never quite ready to tell us what it is.
The first morning I turn on the first tap to take a shower and nothing. Then I turn on the second: nothing either. I know something will happen unexpectedly, I’m scared, I turn them both off. Naked and cold, I look at them. I have no glasses, I see no visible signs, I get out of the shower looking for my glasses, I come back, I examine every little piece of the noble and well-designed metal of the tub without really finding anything that shows what to expect. I have thoughts about my intelligence: am I the only one who doesn’t handle taps well? I decide to follow my intuition, I make a mistake again, at the third tap he turns on the cold water in the tub where the shower is installed. Feet in the cold water, I make a last attempt and a jet of hairy water runs along my hair, stuck on top of my head after an hour of brushing in the salon the day before. I scream just to vent a little indignation against my former enemy, the tap, and its sadistic creators.
I continue to open it less and less until I find the right water temperature: temper the water, as my mother used to say. I know now that for the next three days I won’t know which one I opened and which one I closed first. I know that we will probably have the same morning saga. I struggle, in vain, to remember what I did right and wrong. After my bath, I forget the adventure, until the next bath.
Source: Terra
Rose James is a Gossipify movie and series reviewer known for her in-depth analysis and unique perspective on the latest releases. With a background in film studies, she provides engaging and informative reviews, and keeps readers up to date with industry trends and emerging talents.
