Antonia vaguely remembered her mother talking about doing the family laundry “the old way” when she was a child growing up in the South. Her children were used to going to a coin operated laundromat down the block. Hanging clothes wasn’t the end of the world, she decided. It would be...rustic.

“Now these cottages are mostly used for large groups, you know? There are two bedrooms this way.” She followed him down the hallway to a master bedroom and a smaller bedroom with two twin-sized beds. “You can fit three people down here and two upstairs.”

“There’s an upstairs?” Judging from the quick look she had in the living room, the high beamed ceiling seemed to suggest that this was it.

“Oh yes, there are two beds and a toilet in the attic.”

It was impressive as it was lonely. She’d only need one room for her stay. “Here’s the WC, right here,” he said opening the door to the downstairs toilet. “Behind it, here’s the shower and sink. Now pay attention to this,” he flicked on the light to the actual bathroom. “The shower is controlled by this box.”

She watched in confusion as he pulled a string on a box situated beside the shower head. The sound that emitted from the contraption sounded like a small generator. “Why?”

“It controls the hot water,” he said above the noise.

“And is that different from the water heater switch in the kitchen?” she asked loudly.

“That’s right,” Mr. Creely said, switching it off.

Antonia stared at the shower, unable to understand the logic. “Alright.”

He exited the bathroom. “Let’s get you back to the living room.”

As she followed the old man, she took a quick peek out of the kitchen window. She spotted her designated clothesline and sighed. It was a far cry from her hotel in Clifden.

“Here, you’ve got a fireplace. Fer the love of Mary, do not put paper in the fire. The roof will catch fire quicker than the flight of the sídhe.”

She didn’t know what that meant, but she nodded anyway.

“You’ve got plenty of peat to burn, but you may want to buy fire starters and logs at the store.”

She peered into the bin that he referred to and saw black bricks of some kind of dirt. “Peat?” she asked, pointing at them.

“Irish fuel.”

“Is there another heat source for the evenings?”

“Ye got central heating, the control panel is on the wall there,” he pointed at the dial beside the fireplace. Antonia went ahead and turned the dial. With the setting sun, the cottage was already a little chilly. “The internet comes from that thing up there,” he said craning his head upward.

She followed his gaze and spotted the small Wi-Fi router near the ceiling.

“I had those installed just last year,” he said with pride. “Got complaints that people couldn’t do their work.”

“Great to know.”

Mr. Creely shook his head. “All of that beauty out there and people still need to stare at a screen.”