Toilet Color Coding

If it’s clear, leave it here. If it’s brown, send it down.

Toilets are amazingly complex for such simple objects. In the end, so to speak, a toilet is simply a bucket of water you pour down a pipe but high-tech engineers with fancy titles have been tinkering with the design since Thomas Crapper owned the world’s first bath, toilet and sink showroom, in King’s Road. In fact, my alma mater built a five-story flushing facility quite appropriately on a Hudson River dock.

Head may express the force needed to lift a column of water those five stories but the head (or heads) on the other side of that dock is a ship’s toilet. The name derives from sailing ships in which the toilet area for the regular sailors was placed at the head or bow of the ship.

I’m not convinced my grandmother coined that phrase, but it was her watchword.

As far as I know, Nana never had to carry water in a bucket to flush an indoor toilet so I don’t know why she always saved water. My father grew up in a railroad station where his father, my grandfather, was station master. They had a sink and a bathtub inside but no toilet; they used the “private” side of the two-holer privy at the end of the station house lawn. The public side was on the platform side of the fence.

outhouse
Necessary and Sufficient. The Colonial Williamsburg Journal tells us, “If something is faintly not nice, humans retreat into a fog of euphemism that merely hints at meaning, as if the words themselves were at fault. Consider the privy, which in the eighteenth century was called the necessary house or, more simply, the necessary. This little structure — of brick or wood, painted or unpainted, of vernacular or high-style design — was also known as a bog, boghouse, boggard, or bog-shop; a temple, a convenience, or temple of convenience; a little house, house of office, or close stool; a privy or a garde-robe, terms that descend from the Middle Ages. Or a jakes, a sixteenth-century term. Williamsburg’s St. George Tucker once defined a jakes as a garden temple.”

Toilets are by far the main source of water use in the home, the EPA notes, accounting for nearly 30% of an average home’s indoor water consumption.

Replacing all of our older, inefficient toilets might save nearly 2 billion gallons per day across the country or some 11 gallons per toilet in your home every day, dear reader. Not in mine, though.

I can save my 11 gallons just by not flushing twice.

There’s a minor blockage in the waste line from one bathroom here. The shower drains fine. The bathroom sink is superb. A toilet flush sometimes backs up in the shower. I’ve snaked and roto-rooted the pipes. I’ve sent a camera down. I think there is a root intrusion under the concrete slab but we can’t find it. My friend Chester, a plumber in real life, suggested a new toilet because they use less water so there wouldn’t be as much to back up.

We’re not allowed to install necessary houses.

The “effective flush volume” of a high efficiency toilet shall not exceed 1.28 gallons. A single flush, tank-type gravity toilet uses up to five gallons to clear the bowl.

toiletOne manufacturer writes, “High Efficiency Toilets should be able to flush using at least 20% less water than is mandated by law and should not need to be flushed more than once to do their job. They should require minimal cleaning with environmentally unfriendly detergents.”

I agree.

If a toilet is supposedly highly virtuous, flushing twice to clear the contents isn’t exactly efficient. The Victorians who hung the tank from the ceiling had the right idea. More head means more power to clear the bowl, even with reduced water.

Chester is wrong, by the way. Sending less water per flush just means the solids don’t move well past the blockage.

I should hang the tank from the ceiling. Of course, water might geyser like Old Faithful out of the shower floor drain.

Nana was right. Cutting out a couple of flushes saves the world, too.

We Go Fast, Part II

Up in North Puffin, the Conservation Law Foundation is concerned. See, the State of Vermont issued St. Albans City a Municipal Separate Storm Sewer Systems (MS4) permit last month.

“We’re convinced that significant water quality improvements in Vermont will take too long to achieve,” a spokesman who was not Dennis Farina said.

They are so worried about the timing for water quality improvements in Vermont that they have challenged the permit.

If I’ve got this straight, they want things to go faster so they figure the best way to do that is to tie the engineers, the municipal officials — the very people who would otherwise do all the work — plus a bunch of attorneys up in court? For the next year or ten?


toilet

We Go Fast, Part I

In a recent Comcast commercial from the Martin Agency, Dennis Farina looks straight at the camera and says “Xfinity has the fastest Internet and CenturyLink doesn’t.”


I had a little trouble with some downloads around the time the commercial aired. Many small podcasts took many big minutes. Skype kept telling us the connection was too slow for video (Skype asked if I had checked my dial-up service).

The following chart shows how long a file the size of that short podcast should take at advertised speeds. My !@#$%^ Comcast connection averaged 8 minutes.


download speeds
I ran an independent speed test.

speed test

Comcast provides a speed test that shows download speed, upload speed, and ping time. The Interweb fora are filled with reports that the Comcast results are, ah, less reliable than other testers.

(Just so’s you know, I showed the SPEEDTEST.NET results to a Comcast rep who said they were wrong, that I needed to use Comcast’s own servers to get a “valid” result.)

Alrighty then. Here are some more of !@#$%^ Comcast’s own servers, starting with the same date and time of the test above.


speed test

speed test

speed test

I understand what !@#$%^ Comcast does but did they have to make Dennis Farina do it for them?

For the record, it took only about 2.6 minutes for Mr. Farina’s 30-second spot to load and play over my fastest-in-the-nation Xfinity connection.


speed test

Better Living through Chemistry™

Rufus likes to remind folks that I am pugnaciously parsimonious. He’s right; in fact, I coined the term and live it daily. I even considered pitching a magazine column with that name but didn’t. See, there are simply too many other skinflints out there writing about it.

Still, cheap bahstidry is a valuable trait but there is thrift and there is cheap.

I mentioned to Liz Arden that I would have to break down and buy some real Febreze™ this morning as I was cleaning my shower. Washcloths take on a life of their own here on my subtropical island. Oh we have a lovely breeze coming through the house but [things] grow when the temperature is 81° and the dew point is 82°.

I need something to take the stink out of the washcloths. The unbranded stuff just doesn’t stand up to whatever comes in on that breeze.

“Dollar Store stuff is mostly snake oil,” Ms. Arden replied.

There’s some truth to that.

Still, Kay Ace swears by “Awesome Bowl Cleaner,” I love “Ovenbaked” brand chocolate-covered graham crackers, and we know that several name-brand manufacturers are now packaging for the dollar market.

The Super Strength Dollar Store de-stinkifier bottle lists water, odor neutralizers, quality control agents, and perfume on its label. I’m down with water as the principle ingredient. After all, gasoline is a lot more expensive and harder to transport. Perfume is another goodie and if they used gasoline instead of water they’d need a lot more perfume which would seriously annoy my nose.

The real questions are what do they think are odor neutralizers and how did they shrink the SCUBA gear down so small that the quality control agents can swim in the spray bottle?

As a corollary, do I have to feed them when the bottle is empty?

skunkOdor neutralizing is the right approach.

In 1993, Paul Krebaum published a recipe in Chemical and Engineering News for a mixture that neutralizes the sweet smell of skunk. Mr. Krebaum, a chemist at Molex, used his extensive experience with thiols (the chemicals that make eau de skunk and rotting fish smell so wonderful to dogs) to discover that an easy way to neutralize the thiols is to induce them to combine with oxygen.

Mr. Krebaum’s skunk remedy works. On skunk smells. It doesn’t work on mildew. And neither do the “odor neutralizers” in the Dollar Store goop.

“Febreze™ is [another] cauldron of chemicals,” according to the Environmental Working Group website.

“Febreze Air Effects™ is showcased as the ultimate odor eliminator, with magical fairy powers. In fact, it’s represented as the one product in all of existence that will get you to breathe happily, as if it were happy pills in aerosol form … as if it were health food in a spray … even an organic cleaning product that works like a magic wand.”

I like magical fairy powers. One of the Interweb writers I admire called himself the Good Fairy in the Gay Nineties. His words had the power to make us laugh, to make us cry. I don’t know if he could get the smell out of my washcloths, though.

The snake oil doesn’t work and Febreze™ costs more than new washcloths, so the tightfisted among us will look to Google for substitutes. The frugal sites all have variations of this FakeFebreze recipe:

1/4 cup of fabric softener
2 tablespoons of baking soda
2 cups of warm tap water

Oh, swell. I’ll have very soft, flammable, musty washcloths. See, the alkaline sodium bicarbonate (baking soda) can absorb and neutralize some acid but mildew can survive within a pH range of 4.0-9.0. Straight baking soda has a pH of 9. It just gets friendlier to mildews as it gets wetter and the fabric softener makes them smell good. Probably tastes good, too.

Back to the (real) Febreze™. The important issue I see is that the active ingredient is Hydroxypropyl beta-cyclodextrin or HPßCD. P&G claims that these molecules bind the hydrocarbons, retaining malodorous molecules like putting them in handcuffs, which “reduces” their release into the air and thus the perception of their scent. It’s better than the perfume that merely masks the odor but the odor is still there. Waiting. With the handcuff key out.

That’s still like painting a skunked dog with expensive tomato juice. I want some inexpensive chemistry that actually eliminates the odor.