(German Replica of Chinese Water Torture Device)

It has been dripping in there for weeks. It did not matter how hard you pushed the handle toward the wall, the cold water valve dripped, dripped and dripped.
 
They say a steady drip can waste $20 or more in water in a short time. Multiply that figure by the number of faucet drips in a building this big, you can imagine we would be wasting enough fresh potable water every month to fill the World Famous Big Pink Pool.
 
The water itself, as you well know, is delivered to me by General Montgomery Meig’s massive and ancient Washington Aqueduct, from high up on the Potomac River, down through the vast tunnel under MacArthur Boulevard, through the processing plant, into the distribution tunnels across the river to Arlington, into the towers that provide such marvelous water pressure, into the feeder system in the Big Pink risers, through my faucet and then down the drain into the Potomac at the big sewage plant at Blue Plains.
 
All without any active intervention on my part. Complete waste.
 
It is an affront to sustainable living, and you can imagine it bugged me. I try to be responsible when it is not too inconvenient.
 
Chinese water torture is the nearest equivalent to the next few weeks, as I will explain in a minute.
 
The increasing frequency of the drip that I noticed whenever I happed to be in the bathroom was the equivalent to onto a person’s forehead is said to drive a restrained victim insane. Now, let us be perfectly clear about this. There is no evidence that this form of torture was ever actually used by the Chinese.
 
The term may date back nearly a hundred years. Harry Houdini had a trick called the Chinese Water Torture Cell, first performed in Berlin shortly before the first World War. It involved Harry being bound and suspended upside-down in a locked glass and steel cabinet overflowing with fresh potable water.
 
He successfully escaped, which is something the real estate market prevents me from doing, so repair was inevitable, and that meant calling the plumber for a couple hundred bucks.
 
I was not irresponsible. I was just a little short on cash. Here is why. Shortly after I first noticed the drip, I rummaged around in the closet, got my screwdriver, wrench and a new washer and made preparations to conduct home plumbing repairs.
 
Naturally, there are degrees of difficulty in attempting home repairs. Problems with the tub and shower require direct intervention from Leo, the Building Engineer, since those pipes do not have local shut off valves, and the riser that serves all eight floors has to be shut down to fiddle around with the tub in any particular unit.
 
That requires advance notification, limited hours to work, and is a general pain in the ass.
 
Sinks and toilets have their own shut off valves, and it is perfectly feasible to screw up the repairs on your own and wind up dazed and confused at the Home Depot with a thousand other panicked home handy-men and no one to ask about the problem except buy a whole new faucet to replace a twenty-cent washer.
 
I used to be pretty good at this stuff but I have lost my confidence since the last $400 encounter with the Commode From Hell that wound up with a stripped nylon nut caused by the wrong kind of wrench. We have great water pressure in the building, which stresses out moving parts with depressing regularity.
 
I set out my tools and made preparations to take off the handle and get to the valve and discovered the work of the last owner of this unit. He- I assume it was a he- had stripped the slots in the screw to a nice round bowl-shaped depression. No screwdriver on earth could gain purchase on the smooth surface, so it was game and match.
 
To get the fifty-cent screw off the handle to get to the twenty-cent washer I would have to call the plumber and have the damned thing drilled out.
 
I fished under the sink and shut off the cold water and learned over the next few weeks to brush my teeth with scalding hot water.
 
That was ultimately an untenable position, though possibly of value in dental maintenance, so while on my way to something else, I found The Dremel in its little plastic case in the closet.
 
Eurika!
 
I could have sworn it was down at the farm, but no. Here it was, the answer to my prayers.
 
The Dremel is the world’s greatest power tool, and is named for its inventor, the legendary Albert J. Dremel who founded the Dremel Company back in 1932. The company was, and still is located in Racine, Wisconsin.
 
His first invention was an electric razor blade sharpener which before the dawn of the disposable age was a real money saver. He quickly brought razor blade manufacturers to their knees. Then, the razor makers cut blade prices in half and quickly brought Albert to his knees.
 
In 1934, Dremel attacked a new market not populated by implacable foes. He devised something he called the the “Moto-Tool,” which was a handheld high-speed rotary tool something like an electric drill, but shaped like a flashlight. Light-weight and flexible with a variety of buts, the tool quickly caught on with hobbyists and craftsmen.
 
The Eurika moment came when I realized I could mount the little carbon cutting wheel in the bit and cut a new slot in the head of the recalcitrant screw and my problems would all be solved.
 
Dremel in hand, I advanced toward the bathroom to solve all my problems.
 
Tomorrow: At the Home Depot
 
Copyright 2010 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
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