A minor milestone

Dario inspecting his work

The plumber arrived this morning, as promised. His name is Dario and he is a dashing gent who dresses like a man in a fashion shoot. Thanks to his Parma accent (which sounds a bit like a very slushy speech impediment) I couldn't understand anything he said, but he seemed very competent.

He hooked up the washing machine, fixed the toilet leak, and connected our Ikea mini-kitchen to a water source. Our place, though still unheated, feels a bit more civilized.





Tonight we celebrated by enjoying the first dinner we've cooked here: radiatore pasta in a very Italo-American sort of beef-pancetta-tomato sauce, Parmesan and a side dish of green beans, both from the Latteria downstairs, a fennel-and-onion salad, and some fizzy white wine. We used Ikea flatware and some pretty dishes that Pam and Romano gave us, claiming that we were doing them a favor by helping them clear out a cupboard.

Even in an unheated room, it tasted great.

Then it was back to the mini-kitchen to wash the dishes. An induction hotplate goes to the left of the sink for cooking; when it's not in use it hangs on the side.

My fantasy when we bought this was that if we had to we could happily live with something along the lines of this minimalist set-up. One night of trying and I realize yet again how hopelessly bourgeois I am. I'm already scheming to add an additional bank of cabinets and counters to our kitchen layout.

Our at-home spa--the water in the pot is deliciously hot

Now it's time to go to bed, which means heating up a pot of water so that I can make at least a gesture toward bathing.

Last night Danny fell asleep before showing me how to turn on the induction plate, and after a half-hour spent trying unsuccessfully to figure it out I gave up and washed myself in ice water. I am determined never to do that again.

Still no word on when the gas and the heat will go on. But tomorrow we're making another trip to Ikea, which is always very comforting.