It was a four day rental just down the road from Skaneateles (pronounced: skin-ny-at-las) on Lake Otisco in the Finger Lake region of New York State. The mid-June weather was pleasant and the rolling green hills that descended down to the lake provided a wealth of charming views. On one of those hills sat the two story rental which was constructed of decorative hard split cinder block with double hung windows and a metal roof. A large deck extended out from the side door and curved around to the front of the structure. From the deck you could hear the shallow Otisco waves gently kiss the shore and you could get a glimpse of the lake through a multitude of leafy trees, but not in a way where you would say things like, “Wow, what a view!” or “OMG, that’s some body of water!” Though the construction of the rental was newish, the inside was filled with old wood, creaky fixtures and antiques. Shelves with hundreds of hard-covered books lined the living area and made the place smell like a 1960’s library, but without all that talk of injustice and revolution. The downstairs half-bath was called the “National Geographic Reading Room—RJ Munson Librarian,” and that too had shelves filled with hundreds and hundreds of National Geographic magazines dating back to the 1960's. It was quite a lovely place, but like the two aging couples that had rented the musty house for the four days the water pressure was spotty. The copper pipes rumbled and wheezed and the water trickled out slowly and sadly like from an old crumbling Roman aqueduct. Worse yet, despite the slow, sad trickling that was like a Roman aqueduct you had to jiggle all the handles to get the water to stop. But even when you jiggled the handles the water still came out in drips and drabs. The two aging couples were like that too—they had to jiggle all their handles but the water still came out in drips and drabs.