The Perfect Drip

It is below zero as I write and my nerves are always a bit on edge during times of low temperatures.  I live in a small trailer whose water pipes are both exposed and uninsulated.  I experienced, in my first winter, three freeze-ups.  I had to get very creative at those times: I used my only tiny electric heater, 3 SnuggleSafe microwaveable heating disks from my cat rescue days, and even baked potatoes nestled carefully around the pipes under the bathroom sink. Lo and behold, my water began to run again after an all-day treatment of these remedies.  I was thrilled at my Yankee ingenuity, especially with those giant blessed hot potatoes.

I became determined this year to never reach the point at which I'd need to resort to such measures.  I am now proactive.  But that means establishing a dripping faucet at the furthest point in the house, my kitchen.  The faucet itself is the single-handle swivel type and is markedly stiff.  I struggle, with my arthritic hands, just to rinse my dishes.  I loathe wasting water, so turn it on and off with each couple of rinsed plates.  And when it came time to adjust the thing to drip -that magic midway between nothing and a stream - my hands objected wholeheartedly.  The first few times involved many attempts.  A gentle swing of the handle either brought no water or a torrent.  I'd back it off, only to have it shut completely down again.  After about 15 adjustments, I found The Perfect Drip.  Such a wonderful feeling of accomplishment, of finesse, in spite of my failing hand strength.

My pipes were safe all night long, but come morning, when I had to use the water in order to wash my breakfast dishes, I'd have to destroy that lovely metered flow.  Thus, throughout the winter days, I repeated the process countless times (with many continued struggles) in order to once again find the perfect drip.  On those days  when I felt I could not begin all over again, I let it drip, unable to use my faucet.  I heated my collected water in giant pots on the stove-top and washed my dishes with that, later reheating more for the rinsing process. I felt like I was living in the mid 1800s.

I am more skilled at it this winter, in spite of an ever-increasing stiff handle.  Practice has paid off.  Throughout these endeavors, I have caught the water in a variety of containers.  You will know it is winter at my place not by the thermometer, but by the countertops covered with water-filled pitchers, jars, and pans.  And the occasional crockpot.  Every drip gets used for myself, my cats, and my houseplants.  I consider wasting water to be a small crime.

I have also perfected the arrival of the drips into their containers so they don't make that drive-ya-nuts sound.

When the  temperatures dropped the other day from balmy to frigid, I approached my kitchen faucet anew and to my delight, got The Perfect Drip going on the very first try!

-GG