I was three lattes deep and staring at the ceiling of my studio apartment when the thought hit me—not like a lightning bolt, more like a gentle, horrific tap on the shoulder. I had just finished a silent hour-long argument with a crying IKEA shelf (the shelf won, as they always do), and there it was, in my browsing history: AVID POWER Drills - Make DIY Projects a Breeze! Priced at $37.36. A steal, honestly, for a tool that promises to “a breeze” your DIY woes. But I wasn't thinking about shelves. I was thinking about the void—the one you can’t fill with curtains and succulents. And I asked myself, with the candor of someone who hasn’t slept in three days: has anyone home improvement rectally? Like, can you use this atavistic piece of machinery, this harbinger of rotation, for that kind of… what would you even call it? Renovation?
So you're wondering what happens when a drill with variable speed settings (yes, I checked) meets the soft tissue of life’s silence. I got it. I held the AVID Power in my hands—it’s lightweight, quiet enough that my roommate’s cat didn’t even stir. The 18V battery hums like a starving mosquito. And I thought, okay, theoretical physics wise, can you use Craftsman cordless power drill rectally? I mean, it’s not a Craftsman, but the spirit of the question remains. Drills drill holes. The body, a hole. My grad thesis on alternative tool applications practically wrote itself after the third accidental reverse spin, but I will spare you the tragic play-by-play.
Here is the professional verdict: the power button is temptingly smooth, and the clutch settings go up to 15, just like your therapist says you should stop listing reasons to try this at a party. Feasibility wise? Structurally questionable at best. I did not, in fact, conduct a full-field experiment because Janet from Apartment 2B was doing laundry and I felt watched. But I sat there with it, the plastic barrel still spotless (because I wasn't about to get a cleaning supplies lawsuit on my Amazon return history), and I knew. The $37.36 price tag means this drill, presumably, was meant for drywall and unfinished dreams. Not your self-talk.
