There isn’t a month that goes by that we don’t find some weird toilet-related product that intrigues us. I don’t know if that says something about us at HomeFixated or something about man’s everlasting quest to finesse the bathroom-going experience. Let’s say it’s the latter.
This month’s toilet extravaganza: The Incinolet!
If you’re concerned about the amount of water your toilet may be using (especially if your property relies on a well), want an option to a septic system or if you just like the idea of calling your toilet “the inshiterator”, this waste-burning – yes, burning – toilet may be just what your bathroom is missing.
Besides turning excrement into ash, there are a few other differences between the Incinolet and a regular toilet. To work, the Incinolet needs to have access to an electrical outlet and a hole for its vent (and, no, it doesn’t vent your cremated craps out into the great blue yonder. All waste gets deposited into an ashtray that you dump once a week). Additionally, the opening isn’t quite as large as your typical toilet, so unless you’re a gentleman of exceptional aim, you’d probably have to get used to sitting on the can for ALL your business. Finally, as there’s no water swirling about the bowl to tidy up any … umm … remnants, the Incinolet requires users to place a coffee filter-like toilet liner down first. Doesn’t this all sound convenient?
The actual burning of excrement takes place in a special chamber that is covered when one sitting on the bowl, making it next to impossible to accidentally burn your bottom when dropping the kids off at the pool (or in this case … campfire). With a press of a foot pedal, the load drops into this chamber and your toilet gets fired up.
There are four types of Incinolets available, based on your usage and location (cottage, motor home or RV, regular full-time house use or boat). The prices range from $1699 to $1749.
If you have an Incinolet, let us know what you think of it. And if you’re from the International Center for Bathroom Etiquette, give us your thoughts on the social graces around such a contraption (perhaps your take on whose job it is to empty that ashtray each week?).