So this is what Chinese water torture is like. The constant trickle of the water, the high-pitched, yet soft hiss coming from the toilet; it’s misery.

The constant flow, in addition to costing more money, also caused condensation to collect when the lid was down. In the winter time, the warm mist felt pretty good, but in the summer …  umm … how do they say it back home — fuhgetaboutit.

Of course, each of you should be thinking by now, why not just fix the toilet? It’s not that simple.

There are two groups of people in this world — those who fix and those who have things fixed. Growing up, my parents encouraged me against trying to fix anything, opting usually to have it fixed and sending me to play in traffic. I tried to prune a hedge in the front yard once and ended up creating a Charlie Brown Christmas tree.

I’m two-thirds blind and clumsy as a mule, so when the water in the toilet started running, the options were simple — pay a plumber (a notion dashed aside after viewing the latest 401K report), find someone who grew up having to fix things or fix it myself.

I’m lucky enough to know people at this newspaper who fall into the “we fix” category, their generosity and assistance has come in handy time and again, even painting the house in which I live. Certainly, they could help install a toilet.

The Home Depot has more toilet choices than the Rose Bowl. Some are round, others oval. One is $399 and one is $79. This one comes with a seat, this one needs a $40 seat. This one says right on the box “easy to install.”

BINGO.

Boy that thing is heavy. But it is home now. Our pressman Jimmy, the man who hung a screen door for me not by reading the directions but by asking, “Do you trust me?” couldn’t make it that night, maybe not the next day, either.

I looked again at the “easy to install,” then thought back to other home improvement endeavors I have undertaken. The battle raged inside my head  — toilet or torture?

I chose toilet.

With the exception of putting the wax seal on incorrectly, forgetting to remove the previous wax seal and not tightening the screws enough on the seat, the toilet sat proud. It passed the prerequisite stress tests. No leaks. No running water. No more torture.

I never even had to make the phone call I had dreaded “Oh, God, there’s water … everywhere … it just washed away the dog.”

No, that phone call might never come. Maybe the toilet changed things for the clumsy blind columnist.

I do need to install one ceiling fan I bought nine months ago and have yet to remove from its box.

But it doesn’t say “easy to install” on its container.

Maybe I’ll wait.