I was at a farmer’s market in an old agricultural building. The washroom was in the basement – a cavernous room designed to accommodate fairground crowds of former days. Along one wall was a row of about two dozen sinks. When i went to wash my hands, the first tap I turned on didn’t have water, nor did the second. I was about to try a third when a woman washing her hands at a sink down the line suggested I look for the basins that were wet. The next faucet I turned on had water. It made me realize that I’m so used to being spoon-fed every convenience that I’ve stopped noticing as a way to figure things out.