May 27, 2021
It was the bath of times, it was the pipe-burst of times.
Know what these are? Of course you don’t. Who does?
Wait. Of course you do. You read the header. That’s right, it’s two TayMac ZTC100 Thermostat Covers. Now. What the heck are they doing affixed to our mid-century bathtub’s handle fixtures?
Funny story, that. And just one more of many on this blog that almost never happen outside the wacky world of autism. Ready?
Have I ever mentioned Dar is into water? Like really into water. Flowing water. Flooding water. Flushing water. Water.
I don’t want you to worry that Dar wantonly walks about in wet clothes. Oh no. The minute his clothes get wet, he pulls them right off. That’s a bit of an issue right there. Though it’s not the issue that required the TayMac ZTC100 Thermostat Covers.
If we leave our blue bathroom unlocked, Dar happily takes off all of his clothes before he begins to bonk around the bath handles. And if we let him, Dar will literally spend hours in that bath spraying water and splashing himself and everything within splashing distance.
Herein lies the issue. Below our bathroom lies our garage. Not gonna lie, a visitor to our garage can always tell if Dar has been in the bathroom for a while. The ceiling blackens. Water drips into a strategically placed bucket.
We wanted to continue to maintain a place of Dar’s distinct delight. We considered removing just the nozzle attachment, but we knew that wouldn’t change him spreading water everywhere. So we brought in contractors. We tried all sorts of things. We worked from both ends. We peeled, revealed, and sealed.
After years, we *thought* we’d solved the leak problem and that Dar could play in the bath undisturbed.
We were wrong.
So wrong, that when our solar panel company came to install solar panels and power walls, and connect the whole thing through our garage, we assumed the ceiling was watertight. Well, it wasn’t. Soon after the company installed crucial pipes just below a portion of our garage ceiling, we saw that same side of the ceiling blackening again.
This was an unacceptable blackle. We speedily spackled and caulked the bathroom corners again. More leaks than a Dutch boy holding back a dam.
We’d paid too much for the solar to let this happen. We tried bungeeing the handles. Dar got through. We tried covering them with a blanket. Dar got through. We paid a plumber to tell us they were too old for him to remove them and replace them with removable (hide-able) spigots, as we’d done with our garden hose because of Dar.
We’d tried Plan A. We’d tried Plan B. We’d tried a lot of the alphabet.
It was Time for Plan T for TayMac Thermostat.
Plan T wasn’t as Trouble-Free as it looks now.
Take a good look at those plastic backs. They didn’t come that way!
We couldn’t just knock out the backs. They had to have holes big enough to slip over the faucet handles, but small enough so that Dar wouldn’t be able to get the covers off and work the handles again. (The keys, we obviously hide.)
I tried attacking those backs with a hammer, sharp knife, and wrenches. Nothing.
So…I held a screwdriver over a burning hot flame from the stove. Repeatedly. And then held the hot screwdriver to the plastic backs. Little by little, I carved holes into them (without letting the dripping plastic permanently damage anything it fell on). Again and again, I would take the thermostat covers to the bathtub and check. I had to be careful. As I perfected the holes, they couldn’t become too big. Too small was okay, not too big, or the whole exercise was pointless.
Finally, after the whole house smelled like burning plastic, I was done.
Now we can let Dar have his way in the bathroom. And he can’t do the bath itself without us anymore.
This completes our tale of the TayMac Thermostat Covers. This completes your glimpse into the wacky world of autism.
Now, when I think of Dar’s love handles, I can think of these. Now, I can handle Dar with a little more love.