All I wanted for my birthday was for my toilets to work. Well, that’s not really the only thing; it’s just high on an extensive list. You see, I’ve lived in the same townhome for seventeen years this month and things are beginning to decay, along with its owner, but I’ll get to that later.
I only have a few dislikes in life; two of them that I really detest are: stoplights and malfunctioning and obstinate toilet mechanisms.
Stoplights are easy to hate…they turn red when you’re in a hurry and don’t want to stop, plus, we so much waste gas sitting at them. I probably waste more gas by driving around the block to avoid them. Why haven’t more American cities utilized the roundabout that much of the world utilizes?
Toilets are another story altogether.
They often continue to fill wasting precious water because the design of the internal mechanism is archaic. Ostensibly, there’s a black ball that is supposed to float to the surface of the contained water and shut off the valve when the tank is full. Well, it never floats high enough and constantly requires time and attention.
Having reached that frustrating station in life where the toilet is becoming a close personal friend, because of too much coffee, tea, wine, water, or whatever, I now visit my confidante during the night more than I used to.
Finishing my business, I sleepily get back into bed while the toilet is filling. I wait, thinking the contraption will shut off eventually. I pull a pillow over my head, so I won’t hear what I’m thinking about. But it’s still there, running monotonously.
Peeved, I get up, take the tank lid off, pull up the rod, slam the lid back on and storm off to bed. But now, I’m too upset to get back to sleep. Brother, I gotta get a life or more patience.
In my usual pragmatic manner, I really tried to solve the problem: I’ve bent the rod attached to the ball to make it lower, given the intellectual understanding that the pressure of being further under water would add more force on the ball to surface; I’ve lubricated the valve with so much WD-40 that an oily film now coats the inside of the tank; I’ve extended the ball to the absolute end of the rod, thinking that if it was further from the valve and lower in the water it had to pop up and shut the system off.
Right.
In a world with of such fancy gadgetry like: cell phones that take pictures and connect to the Internet, satellite guided navigation systems mounted in the dash of your car; wireless hand-held computers; watches that do everything but make coffee; his and hers individualized inflatable mattresses complete with a sleep numbering system; implanted chips in our pets to identify them if they get lost…why can’t we invent a toilet that flushes, forever!?!
I know I know, I should just be happy and grateful that there aren’t any telemarketers bugging me at 5:15 pm each night anymore. Did you ever notice that they never sell new and improved toilet flushers? I should just eat mass quantities of chocolate, it's supposed to help men cope.
Anyway you look at it, toilets are a pain in the butt (sorry, I couldn’t resist myself).
Long years ago, my Dad remodeled his bathroom. The color of the era was pink. This past year, the toilet went kaput and a new one was needed, but do you think a pink one could be found? No one sells pink anymore, we were told. Not even to Mary Kay with her pink Cadillac’s?
And what’s up with padded toilet seats? I hope I don’t get any of those for my birthday. I hate it when I go to someone’s home and there’s a padded toilet seat. They just don’t seem natural. How do you clean it? They’re just weird to me.
And where did the blue water things go? None of my friend’s use them anymore, did blue go out of favor just like pink? I digress.
Well, to be forthright, I’ve already solved the problem. Or I should say my Dad did. He couldn’t stand the toilets running on either (it’s a family thing), so I bought the replacements and he changed all three of them for me as a birthday gift...how ‘bout that?
Thanks, Dad. I love being a kid, even if, an inept, 58 year-old one.
These new flushers are revolutionary though, no ball, no rod...no foolin’. It’s a self-contained plastic mechanism that’s a complete mystery, just like Santa Claus.
The only obvious drawback is when it stops working, I can’t bend, submerge, oil or extend anything. I’ll have to buy a new one. Therein lies the rub: planned obsolescence. The manufactures are always a step ahead of us, huh?
Well, at least it’s one item that I can check off my “All I want for birthday” list. I wonder if I’ll get the Ronco onion chopper or the Chia pet I’ve ask for? Hmmm.
Posts
