Parts of my house seem to defy simple explanation, although perhaps the simplest explanation is the best–whoever did the penultimate remodeling (before we started our eternal process) was blind. It is conceivable. There are many small clues, like the fact that the lumber markings on the wood used to build some of the bathroom cabinets can be clearly read (very clearly read) because they are on the outside surface and preserved behind a very light stain. Usually furniture-grade lumber is not marked, and usually diligent workers put the good face of each piece outward, suggesting that this is crappy wood that was nailed in place by careless workers who couldn’t see their own work.
The kitchen counter is a similar story. It appears to be supported by paranormal forces. There’s certainly nothing physical holding it up, and yet it can support the weight of a dancing nine-year-old. The marble just wants to be where it is, and gravity be damned.
But I digress.
Friday was already going to be a busy day, but it got busier when the flush handle unexpectedly broke off the toilet, bouncing along the floor tiles with a loud clang whose echos were chased by an expletive chosen hastily and without conscious effort from my deep reserve of casual, everyday profanity. It’s the sort of combination of sounds that makes my wife yell, from whatever part of the house she’s in, “Is everyone OK?” with a low expectation of a positive response.
Such was my introduction to the secret world of toilets that have the flush handle on the side, instead of the front. I now understand the difference between the two mechanisms, and can fully appreciate the inexorable truth that all such toilets will break eventually, at least if they are equipped with the sort of flush handle assembly sold at Ace or Home Depot. Side-handle toilets are simply a bad design. Front-handle toilets are the way to go. If you look at it, you’ll see what I mean. I’m not going to bother describing it, because you can probably get your hands on a side-handle toilet and play with it yourself. There’s simply too much torque on the pivot for the pivot housing to be made out of plastic, but plastic is the material from which they are made.
The evidence is clear at the hardware store. Although the majority of toilets have a front flush handle, it is very difficult to find a replacement front handle. This is because they do not break. In contrast, it is very easy to find a replacement side flush handle, even though side flush handles are rare, because being broken is apparently one of the common states of a side flush handle.
I installed a new handle, adjusting the action a bit so that in the future, only one turn of the knob should suffice to accomplish a flush, and significantly less jiggling will be required–perhaps even none at all–in order to end a flush.
But looking inside this toilet I was, once again, amazed at the simplicity of the overall device and the elegance of the mechanism. True, as a fifty-year-old toilet, it does appear, from certain angles, to have been assembled from spare parts by a lesser student of the Rube Goldberg school of engineering, but in reality every piece is necessary and they all work together in glorious concert. It is a wonderful machine that improves my life every single day.
Well, except for that day last summer when it decided to imitate a fountain. That particular day may have been a net loss. But on every other day, I’m very happy that my home has a toilet.
