Finally, something that Donald Trump and I agree on. An executive order the President signed April 9th — propitiously titled “Maintaining Acceptable Water Pressure in Showerheads” — reverses a Biden era regulation that conserved water by restricting the number of gallons per minute that can flow from showerheads and other appliances.
I know what you’re thinking: the economy is tanking and my retirement savings are going, going, gone; innocent people are being deported to Salvadorian torture prisons and they may come for me next; we’re barreling towards a constitutional crisis as the administration prepares to tell the Supreme Court where to go; once proud universities and law firms are bending the knee; China’s going to eat our lunch; the crown jewels of American science are being destroyed, and you’re worrying about your morning shower?
I plead guilty. But don’t judge me. I’m one of those people that when I go to the beach I try to leave with one more piece of trash than I brought in. I pick other people’s garbage off the side of the road on Earth Day. I cultivate milkweed for migrating Monarch butterflies. I also appreciate that water is a precious and limited natural resource. Just not necessarily in my part of the world.
Admittedly, with climate change — another arena where the radical right would happily watch the planet burn in exchange for the thrill of owning the libs — you can never be sure what surprises the weather has in store; Saharan drought may descend on the soggy Hudson Valley next month or next week. But for the moment the water table isn’t an issue.
Unlike our president with his head of self-described “beautiful hair” I’m primarily bald. But that doesn’t make a powerful stream of hot water feel any less deserved. The issue is always top of mind, no pun intended, but has been even more so lately. Responding to a New York Times Wirecutter story I recently bought their recommended showerhead. “Superb showering,” they boasted. “Standout price.” The device was indeed handsome and came in a presentation box that would have led you to believe that you’d just purchased the Elgin Marbles.
At least one of the existing shower heads in our house dates back to the 1940’s. It’s nothing but a nozzle and produces a jet of water so strong it can knock you over. Which I appreciate. But you can’t control it. It doesn’t come with all those cool spray settings the way modern showerheads, like the one I bought on Wirecutter’s recommendation, do: full body spray, full spray with massage, shampoo rinsing spray, etc. etc.
Frankly, my dream fixture is what’s often referred to as a “rain” shower head. Ideally, it would mimic the experience of standing underneath a Tahitian waterfall, a toasty Tahitian waterfall. But guess what? In my experience even rain showerheads disappoint because they include water flow restrictors. I’ve done my best to remove them without destroying the appliance but sometimes you just can’t.
Indeed, my beef isn’t limited to showers. Years ago, in some previous cultural paroxysm of water saving political correctness, I foolishly allowed the super in my New York City apartment building to replace, with a water tank toilet, the heroic old-fashioned high pressure flushometer toilet that connects directly to the water supply line.
I’ve regretted it ever since. The old toilet, the sort I grew up with in the city, roared like a jet engine and dispatched the contents of the bowl with a single flush. Tank toilets sometimes break down, their mechanisms need to be replaced, and they frequently don’t do the job. You’re forced to wait until the tank refills and try your luck again.
Fearing disappointment, it took me several weeks to rouse the courage to replace the entirely serviceable showerhead in the bathroom where I prefer to shower — we have six if you include our outdoor shower — with the Times recommendation. Why didn’t I just leave well enough alone? Because I’m always striving for showering perfection.
Indeed, as I write this column I just found another showerhead online that looks promising and offers a flow rate of 2.5 gallons per minute instead of the anemic 1.75 GPM my Wirecutter purchase provides. I’m not sure whether that’s a lot, but 2.5 certainly sounds superior to 1.75. The larger point, with which I’m sure the president would agree, is that each and everyone of us, with the possible exception of deportees and AP reporters, should be the master of his or her showering experience.
Once I’d screwed on the new Wirecutter showerhead I did everything to persuade myself that the water flow was sufficient. I tried the full body spray setting, the full body spray with massage, the massage alone, and finally a setting that produced the power I craved except it shrunk the diameter of the spray to approximately the size of a pencil. None of the setting, alone or in combination, offered the bracing sensation I require to start my day.
How many GPMs is that? I have no clue but you know it when you get it. You don’t want the spray to be so strong that it causes bruises. On the other hand, I can’t stand it when it’s so measly that it requires double the time to rinse off. Where’s the water savings in that?
After about a month I threw in the towel. I had to accept reality. As pretty as my new showerhead looked it simply wasn’t up to the task. I reluctantly, almost weepily, removed it and reinstalled the old one. We live in dark times. But an impeccable shower temporarily washes your woes away. As a people we need and deserve adequate water pressure now more than ever.
Ralph Gardner Junior is a journalist who divides his time between New York City and Columbia County. More of his work can be found in the Berkshire Eagle and on Substack.
The views expressed by commentators are solely those of the authors. They do not necessarily reflect the views of this station or its management.
