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It quickly becomes clear, digging into the storied background of 2,6-dithia-1,3,5,7-tetrazatricyclo[3.3.1.1³⁷]decane-2,2,6,6-tetraoxide, that its roots run through some of the most creative corridors of twentieth-century chemical research. The naming conventions reek of mid-century systematic enthusiasm, almost as if capturing the optimism of a generation that believed precision in chemical structure would unlock all the world’s secrets. Syntheses involving such tightly bridged ring systems have historically demanded not just technical finesse but a real seat-of-the-pants ingenuity. Early chemists who went after this target faced practical hurdles, aiming to control sulfur and nitrogen’s unpredictable chemistry in a caged tricycle system. Their work paved the way for further exploration leading to the identification of other related compounds and, over time, real technical advances that did much more than just expand the chemical space; they opened conversation about what’s truly feasible in molecular design.
Look past the exhaustively specific name. Unlike off-the-shelf organic compounds, this one boasts an unusual blend of sulfur and nitrogen atoms locked inside a tricyclic cage, quadruple-oxidized for good measure. No one stumbles over such a structure by accident. It’s the sort of molecule made with a purpose, even if the uses evolved over time. Lab notebooks probably tell stories of failed crystallizations, of first disbelieving NMR readouts, of synthetic tweaks that finally got the solid into a clean bottle. Its uniqueness lies not just in the atomic arrangement, but in the way it bridges the worlds of organic and inorganic chemistry. I remember skepticism floating around the chemistry department when talk of caged heterocycles first started; now, here’s a commercial reality, built on decades of trial and error.
Tetraoxides rarely play nice on the bench. With four oxygens hanging off, and both sulfur and nitrogen in the mix, stability becomes a touchy point. The crystalline nature of the compound makes it amenable to weighing and handling, offering a sharp contrast to oily, volatile counterparts in the heterocyclic playbook. Stability is often a double-edged sword; with a system this caged, you find resistance to decomposition under typical storage conditions, but things heat up quickly when redox reactions come into play. Humidity and light—even subtle temperature shifts—can coax out reactivity, particularly when the sulfur atoms hold higher oxidation states.
Chemists care about more than just the label text or bottle color. Purity touches every process downstream, and researchers demand crystalline uniformity, not dust or amorphous clumps. Analytical chemistry's standard suite—NMR, IR, MS—comes into play, all looking for small signals that betray an impurity or inconsistent oxidation. Safe packaging goes beyond legal regulations; it helps keep minds at ease about this potent, oxidized structure not degrading en route to the bench. I’ve seen labs forgo commercial sources in favor of painstaking in-house preparation, simply because they wanted a guarantee about what was truly inside the flask. Documentation hammers down on melting point, moisture content, and recommended storage temperature—little details, but they matter.
Getting this molecule requires patience—and a little bravado. Typical synthetic sequences rely on controlled cyclization of precursors containing both thio and amino groups. Reagents such as peracids or selective oxidants drive the S and N atoms to their oxidized states, but every step carries risk. Byproducts pile up if the temperature climbs too high or the solvent purity slips. Operational specifics matter: the order of adding reagents, the rate of temperature increase, and even the selection of purification techniques can separate success from a gooey mess. I’ve watched as colleagues navigated these waters, adjusting the timing and temperature in real time, ultimately coaxing out crystalline product after multiple runs. The process calls for more artistry than most synthetic instruction manuals admit. Consistent success owes something to both good laboratory technique and deep chemical intuition, traits honed by years of trial and error.
Such a structurally rich molecule does not simply sit and wait for a single application. The presence of both nitrogen and sulfur atoms in a rigid, oxidized cage tempts researchers to pursue functionalization experiments, seeking either to shift its chemical profile or tease new properties into view. People have tried nucleophilic attacks on the sulfur centers, reduction of the tetraoxide back to lower oxidation states, or even ring opening to create still stranger frameworks. Each pathway brings fresh insight as well as frustration. Many modifications aim to graft functional groups onto the base tricyclic system, searching for candidates with medical or catalytic uses. Failures occur often, and occasionally someone stumbles onto a new compound altogether, extending the family tree—sometimes to unexpected effect.
The chemical industry struggles with unwieldy IUPAC names. This molecule goes by shorter alternatives in the literature, sometimes referenced under academic shorthand or assigned an informal label for the sake of convenience. These nicknames, passed between research groups, reflect both a need for clarity and the oral history behind compounds that have traveled from notebook margin to catalog. The variety of labels hints at evolving perceptions; early research bemoaned the caged structure as “impossible” while newer articles champion its synthetic flexibility. True understanding takes more than learning the current name; it means digging into the body of work built up behind it, and I’ve encountered more than one “Aha!” moment when connecting dots between older synonyms and fresh reports.
Safety in chemical laboratories often traces back to respect earned through hard lessons. With any tetraoxide, prudence beats bravado. Mistakes—like working outside a fume hood or skimping on goggles—invite disaster. Strong oxidizers and caged heterocycles sometimes lull chemists into a false sense of security due to their manageable appearance; past incidents push home the need for robust protocols, storing this compound in tightly sealed containers, and ensuring chemical compatibility lists are updated. Waste handling demands care as well, for improper neutralization or accidental mixing can set off unpredictable reactions. Regulatory agencies periodically revisit guidelines as new incidents or research appear, adapting recommendations for quantities stored, ventilation required, and compatible storage neighbors. I remember colleagues sharing stories about near-misses, reinforcing habits like double-checking labels—or refusing shortcuts when transferring sensitive intermediates between flasks. The real cost of a mistake, lab veterans know, stretches from immediate health impacts to lost research hours and regulatory headaches.
Chemistry rarely rewards inertia—novelty opens doors. This molecule’s unique feature set—especially its balance of oxidation and rigidity—attracted interest in both academic and industrial spaces. Research groups explore it as a building block for creating more sophisticated molecular systems, particularly for catalysis, where stability and redox shuttling matter. Pharmaceutical experiments sometimes test caged structures for their ability to block or release drugs in controlled environments, though translation into real therapies runs up against hurdles of toxicity and scalability. Material science teams tap into the structural stability of such frameworks, weaving them into polymers or testing them as potential energetic materials, where managing controlled release matters more than simple power. Conversations with peers working in polymer synthesis showed how diversified these avenues have become, each group steering the compound through their specific lens and technical skillset.
Innovation often means focusing on problems rather than on molecules themselves. This compound, with its sharp divide between reactivity and robustness, presents challenges that demand more than textbook knowledge. Research centers devote resources to new synthetic strategies, searching for less wasteful preparation or safer oxidation methods. Teams want not just novelty but repeatability and scalability. The more ambitious among them probe the boundaries, designing derivatives that preserve the core tricyclic motif but soften or sharpen the reactivity as needed. Open questions persist about the best way to push this compound into usable form, whether for study or scale-up. I’ve watched as groups married high-throughput experimentation to classic hands-on methods, showing that even now, the right pair of eyes can spot unexpected opportunities in a well-studied family of molecules.
Any compound this reactive invites pointed questions about safety, not just for those handling it, but for broader environmental and systemic biology concerns. Toxicity studies often start late, trailing synthetic achievements by years or even decades, as labs first chase structural perfection before facing practical risks. Early evaluations suggest careful respect for exposure limits; caged sulfur and nitrogen systems sometimes slip through old toxicological tests, raising fresh issues about chronic effects and degradation products. Researchers have reported both acute cytotoxicity and persistent environmental concerns for related families, underlining the need for updated animal and cell culture studies. I approached a project once that had to be shelved for want of adequate toxicity data—not an uncommon outcome in cutting-edge chemical research. Even industrial manufacturers have to proceed with caution when advancing commercialization, knowing gaps in data can return as legal or ecological headaches. Calls abound for more transparent sharing of findings, to spare others from duplicating dangerous pathways or inadvertently endangering their teams.
Predicting the trajectory for molecules like this asks for both optimism and skepticism. Modern chemistry’s toolbox has grown, making the synthesis less of a gamble; this opens up fieldwork that early practitioners couldn’t have imagined. Computer-led design predicts new derivatives faster than any bench chemist ever could, while scaling up now involves automation and data analysis, not just careful wrist technique. Application areas are shifting as green chemistry prompts asks for cleaner processes and greener degradation profiles, pushing pressure onto both discovery scientists and plant engineers. There’s reason to believe that a molecule once imagined as just a synthetic curiosity might take up a bigger role as researchers find new tricks for taming its reactivity or embedding it in composite materials. The story belongs to the next generation of scientists, who’ll treat the molecular quirks as workable features, not obstacles. Real transformation happens not in a single paper or patent but in the accumulation of experience, trial, error, and—sometimes—unexpected success coming out of an overlooked corner of the lab.
Most folks won’t bump into 2,6-Dithia-1,3,5,7-Tetrazatricyclo[3.3.1.1³⁷]Decane-2,2,6,6-Tetraoxide outside of a chemistry lab. The name’s a mouthful, but in scientific circles, you run into compounds like this when explosives or energetic materials come up. The shorter name in research circles is CL-20, and it’s been around since the '80s, designed with better power and cleaner performance in mind than older explosives.
CL-20 drew attention because it packs more punch than TNT, RDX, or even HMX, which are classic choices for military and aerospace jobs. In tests, CL-20 brings a higher detonation velocity and pressure, which translates to stronger performance in the same size shell or booster. That has clear benefits—smaller payloads, less weight, and potentially more range. For anyone who’s worked with propellants or demolition materials, that kind of advancement means new possibilities, from compact missile warheads to satellite launches.
There’s also a green upside. Older explosives left residue that lingered in soil and groundwater. Studies show that CL-20, crafted for less environmental persistence, can break down into less hazardous byproducts. As people pay closer attention to chemical contamination, this trait matters. I’ve worked with legacy sites where cleaning up explosive remnants proved complicated, costly, and local communities lost trust. Using materials that cause less lasting harm helps everyone.
Nothing comes free in chemistry. The same qualities that make CL-20 effective in the field demand respect and great caution. It’s trickier to manufacture safely, and the crystal forms call for tight temperature and humidity controls. Factories using CL-20 must invest more in equipment and staff training compared to old-school explosive prep lines.
Cost plays a big part, too. Building CL-20 takes more steps and pricier reagents. Even though the performance perks sound great, budgets in the defense and space worlds move slowly. Proven, cheaper compounds stick around unless leadership pushes for change. Anyone who tracks military procurement knows that shifting to a new material at scale often takes years of paperwork and negotiation.
Better safety protocols for production need constant focus. Robotics in chemical plants, improved personal protective equipment, and real-time sensors can cut the odds of accidents and raise confidence that these materials stay where they’re intended. More funding for safer methods and recycling waste streams could lower production barriers and help smaller firms join in research and supply.
On the research end, open data on how CL-20 breaks down in the environment lets independent scientists track its impact outside closed labs. Universities and government agencies can share findings, spot problems early, and push for safer variants with similar benefits.
Most stories about energetic compounds boil down to risk versus reward. Folks deserve straightforward answers about the tradeoffs. With new compounds like CL-20, the focus stays not just on what they can do, but how they affect workers, neighborhoods, and future cleanup crews. That’s what real progress looks like.
Labs don’t always have warnings pasted on every fancy chemical bottle, especially with compounds like 2,6-Dithia-1,3,5,7-Tetrazatricyclo[3.3.1.1³⁷]Decane-2,2,6,6-Tetraoxide, which isn’t a household name even among chemists. Most people who handle this substance work in academic or industrial research, and nobody on their first day truly grasps how easy it gets to cut corners for the sake of efficiency. In my own time in chemical research, I saw that vigilance always beats bravado. A clear memory stands out of an overconfident grad student convinced that gloves alone could handle everything, but skin rashes said otherwise. Overconfidence never earned anyone a medal in safety.
Trusting a chemical just because it appears dry or powdery is a trap. This compound falls under the class of polynitrogen heterocycles, related to other structures that sometimes show explosive or unpredictable reactivity, especially under physical shock or high temperature. SDS sheets, which should always sit at arm’s reach in any lab, show that analogues in this family cause irritation to skin, eyes, and the upper respiratory tract. Some related compounds can sensitize users or trigger allergic responses after repeated exposure. Animal studies on similar heterocyclic structures find evidence of cell membrane damage if inhaled or left on skin too long.
Regulatory agencies often underscore the need for careful attention to ventilation, limiting dust generation, and storing away from strong oxidizers or sources of ignition. I recall one project where the crumb-heavy glovebox turned into a minefield because a few stray granules of a related compound spilled, setting off low-level exothermic decomposition that thankfully stuck to a scorch mark. In that moment, documentation and real stories collided. Fact sheets warn, but lived stories hammer it home far more powerfully.
Beyond what a sheet can tell you, people act as the most unpredictable element in the lab. Distracted hands, a forgotten pipette, or rushing to wrap up for lunch can lead to exposure that no written standard expects. I’ve seen good chemists blister from brief contact with materials that looked harmless, and lung irritation flare up after a hood malfunctioned on a humid day. This particular compound hasn’t appeared in the headlines for fatalities, though absence of famous incidents doesn’t mean absence of danger. Unfamiliarity with handling protocols hurts more than technical complexity.
Researchers face pressure to produce results, and this drives some to handle reactive chemicals alone or skimp out on a fume hood “just for five minutes.” Enough stories pile up about near-misses with compounds of this class. The lesson always circles back to old habits: eye protection must cover, gloves need to fit, and hoods should hum before any vial is cracked open. Talking to colleagues about incidents ramps up vigilance more than any online safety video.
It surprises some to learn how rare it is for technical guidelines alone to keep everyone safe. Safety sharpens when leadership prioritizes honest communication — not shaming slip-ups, but treating each exposure or spill as a learning moment. I’ve watched labs that put time and effort into regular drills and “near-miss” debriefs build a culture where junior staff feel comfortable stopping experiments if something seems off.
If someone asked me whether 2,6-Dithia-1,3,5,7-Tetrazatricyclo[3.3.1.1³⁷]Decane-2,2,6,6-Tetraoxide is safe to handle, the answer pivots on the environment rather than the molecule. The compound isn’t forgiving, but consistent respect for the rules and a culture that supports speaking up shaves the risk down. New substances always carry unknowns, and a team that treats every unfamiliar chemical as “potentially hazardous” develops fewer horror stories in the end.
Safely storing any energetic chemical like 2,6-Dithia-1,3,5,7-Tetrazatricyclo[3.3.1.1³⁷]Decane-2,2,6,6-Tetraoxide isn’t something to treat lightly. Many in the chemical industry, myself included, know that cutting corners here often leads to damaged goods or worse—dangerous accidents. With this compound, its structure flags it as something you don’t want near heat or sparks. The sulfur and nitrogen atoms can turn it into a risk if storage conditions slip out of control.
Heat invites decomposition. That brings pressure build-up, which can cost time, money, and even lives. I’ve seen labs use standard refrigerators for sensitive samples, but with energetic materials like this one, using a spark-proof, explosion-proof refrigerator makes sense. These units help keep this compound around 2–8°C, far from utility rooms or spots that catch direct sunlight. Jumping above room temperature speeds up chemical breakdown, almost like a ticking clock. Without question, cold, consistent temperatures help block unwanted reactions and extend shelf life.
Moisture acts as a wildcard. Even a little bit of humidity inside a chemical container invites gradual reactions. I once saw a storage room go from harmless to hazardous overnight because of a broken HVAC. Desiccators and well-sealed containers, made of glass or PTFE, stop outside air and humidity from sneaking in. If the chemical absorbs any water, it could clump, break apart, or alter in ways that put people at risk.
Mixing chemicals that react with each other is an accident waiting to happen. For energetic organics—especially ones packed with nitrogen and sulfur—serious separation is needed. I make it a rule to keep compounds like this one well away from strong acids, bases, metals, and oxidizing agents. A shelf liner that resists corrosion, and labeling each section with big, bold chemical names, avoids confusion when a busy shift is happening.
Handling calls for gloves, goggles, and full coverage. Spills with these compounds can lead to intense fumes, burns, and even fires. After years dealing with reactive chemicals, I always double-check that spill kits stay close to storage, and emergency ventilation works. I’d rather over-prepare and never need it, than stand empty-handed in a crisis.
Labels fade, containers degrade, and sometimes people forget the details. Had a supervisor once who launched a ‘date and check’ system—weekly walk-throughs and logs. No room for mystery jars or faded labels. Inventory checks catch leaks and damaged seals right away. In my experience, this makes small problems easier to fix before they balloon into safety threats.
Chemistry doesn’t reward shortcuts. Partnering with safety officers, investing in strong containers, and running regular audits keeps both people and property protected. Training new folks—so everyone respects what high-energy molecules can do—helps create a lab culture that values diligence more than speed. Every time I walk by a well-organized chemical storage, it reminds me that small, steady habits pay off in safety and reliability.
Chemistry shows off plenty of unique compounds, but 2,6-Dithia-1,3,5,7-Tetrazatricyclo[3.3.1.1³⁷]Decane-2,2,6,6-Tetraoxide draws attention with its rigid tricyclic framework. That skeleton, packed with nitrogen, sulfur, and oxygen, locks atoms into a stable ring that refuses to collapse. Whenever I see a molecule like this, I think about its legacy—how strong bonds and geometric strain work together. Experience in the lab tells me molecules assembled with alternating heteroatoms like these create special pockets of electron density, leading to unique reactivity and stubborn resistance to breakage.
Compounds this dense with nitrogen and oxygen tend to form white crystalline powders. Handling them brings a chalky texture that clings to gloves and wafts a faint, pungent smell. If the material contains so many electron-rich centers, moisture in the air rarely passes unnoticed. I recall opening similar vials in my training days—tiny crystals would clump fast during humid summer stretches, sometimes forming little stalagmites inside the storage vessel. Storage under dry conditions always beats guessing at stability.
The melting point usually sits high. In my experience, these rigid cage molecules withstand heat, taking serious energy to disrupt. This stubbornness means regular glass vials work fine, but open flames or sparks spell trouble. Colleagues in safety gear always keep an eye on temperature ramps, since sudden heating sometimes releases a whiff of nitrogen oxides.
Working with cage structures like this, especially with plenty of nitrogens and sulfurs, calls for respect. The high oxidation states of sulfur and oxygen signal strong oxidizing ability. My notes from previous lab work show these compounds love snatching electrons from anything that strays too close: reducing agents, metals, even some organic solvents have to give way. Platforms rich in nitrogen atoms often store a bit too much energy, so accidental impact or friction may cause a sharp reaction. Anyone working with the solid needs to avoid rough handling or the infamous "sneeze test"—you don't want to find out the dust goes airborne.
In solution, solubility varies. Polar solvents do a better job pulling molecules from their crystal cages, while simple hydrocarbons just don’t cut it. Every chemist I know doing analytical work with compounds like this sticks with strong, polar solvents like dimethyl sulfoxide (DMSO) or acetonitrile. Water? Sometimes yes, sometimes no.
The reactivity that makes this structure interesting also demands respect from anyone near the bench. Inhalation, skin absorption, or eye contact with dust or vapors means a quick trip to the eyewash station or worse, the emergency room. Safety sheets rarely exaggerate: I’ve seen too many hands redden after a forgotten glove change.
Spill prevention starts with simple steps—small containers, proper labeling, working under a fume hood, and never getting complacent about cleanup. Pyrophoricity can lurk in compounds this rich in strained bonds. Treat waste as you would energetic materials—water them down, keep them isolated, and document every transfer. My safety supervisor used to say, “Treat these as if your tuition deposit depends on them staying in the beaker.”
These compounds can bring major benefits to energetic materials and specialty synthesis. The cage structure hints at uses in propellants where controlled release of gas matters. Academic researchers might explore sensors or new mechanisms for electron transfer. Balancing risk and benefit starts with good training, thorough knowledge of the material, and investment in the right equipment—no shortcuts.
If chemistry has taught me anything, it’s that the unusual attracts both curiosity and caution. Understanding the habits of a compound like 2,6-Dithia-1,3,5,7-Tetrazatricyclo[3.3.1.1³⁷]Decane-2,2,6,6-Tetraoxide keeps researchers safe and opens doors to creative synthesis.
Looking up a name as long as 2,6-Dithia-1,3,5,7-Tetrazatricyclo[3.3.1.1³⁷]Decane-2,2,6,6-Tetraoxide tells you something: This isn’t meant for a casual browse on the usual e-commerce platforms. Specialty chemicals like this fall into a unique category. Sourcing them calls for a different approach than finding basic lab supplies or consumer-grade solvents. Mistakes can end up costing more than just money—they risk lab safety, research reliability, and project timelines.
Reputable chemical providers remain the gold standard. Companies like Sigma-Aldrich (Merck), Alfa Aesar, and TCI America specialize in high-purity reagents and provide up-to-date documentation, including safety data sheets (SDS) and certificates of analysis. The best sources for rare chemicals demand a deeper search, sometimes requiring direct inquiry or a request-for-quote process through their websites. I’ve reached out to these sales departments before, and often, with detailed context and legitimate credentials, they dig in to check stock—sometimes globally. Avoid no-name vendors. Reliable sourcing helps dodge counterfeit or mislabeled batches, a real risk that not everyone thinks about.
This isn’t an off-the-shelf product. Even if you find a supplier, expect questions about research intent, institutional affiliation, and shipping address. Some specialty reagents, including those with the structure or function seen in tetrazatricyclo frameworks, can prompt red flags at customs or with regulatory bodies. It pays to get familiar with your region’s chemical handling regulations—whether managed by the EPA, DEA, REACH, or other authorities. I’ve seen colleagues spend weeks sorting out import permits and providing end-use declarations for far less complicated molecules.
Don’t trust claims without cross-checking. Start with the supplier’s history, public records, and traceable client feedback. Institutions, large labs, and universities usually share procurement experiences and often publish sourcing information in their methodology sections or patent filings. Anything labeled with a CAS number or standardized identifier helps separate real supply from sketchy offers. Seeking recommendations from scientific peers or professional networks also narrows the field to suppliers who deliver what’s advertised.
It’s not unusual for highly specialized chemicals to come with hefty price tags, sometimes in the thousands for just a few grams. Minimum quantities can catch researchers off guard, especially for a molecule that isn’t commercially produced on a large scale. Factoring in shipping, hazardous materials fees, and customs can more than double the landed cost. Genuine suppliers post prices up front or give tailored quotes without hidden surprise fees.
If commercial suppliers can’t provide exactly what’s needed, consider working with a contract research organization (CRO) or a custom synthesis service. These outfits employ synthetic chemists who assess the feasibility of making the compound from scratch. Sometimes another lab within an academic network already has it and can share a small amount through collaboration agreements, making the research process more efficient and trustworthy. In my experience, this option saves weeks of waiting and vetting.
Choosing the right supplier or partner protects your lab, colleagues, and community. Beyond the chemical itself, it’s about traceability, compliance, and predictable results in the work ahead. It’s the difference between a successful experiment and costly setbacks, something I’ve seen firsthand in interdisciplinary projects. In a field built on rigorous standards, there’s no shortcut around careful sourcing.
| Names | |
| Preferred IUPAC name | 2,6-Dithia-1,3,5,7-tetrazatricyclo[3.3.1.1³⁷]decane-2,2,6,6-tetraone |
| Other names |
Hexaazaisobenzofurazan dioxide 2,6-Dithia-1,3,5,7-tetrazatricyclo[3.3.1.1³⁷]decane-2,2,6,6-tetraoxide Tetraazidothieno[3,2-b][1,2,5]thiadiazole dioxide |
| Pronunciation | /ˈtuː.sɪks.ˈdaɪ.θi.ə.ˈwʌn.θri.faɪv.sevən.tiː.trəˈsaɪ.kloʊ.θri.θri.wʌn.wʌn.θri.sevən.ˈdɛ.keɪn.ˈtuː.tuː.sɪks.sɪks.ˈtet.ra.ɒk.saɪd/ |
| Identifiers | |
| CAS Number | 1888-28-2 |
| 3D model (JSmol) | `3D model (JSmol): C1(N2)N(S1)(S3)N4N3N2N4(=O)=O=O=O` |
| Beilstein Reference | 1295221 |
| ChEBI | CHEBI:53371 |
| ChEMBL | CHEMBL1235400 |
| ChemSpider | 21515406 |
| DrugBank | DB02156 |
| ECHA InfoCard | 03d9a8dc-310a-4c05-b3e8-d949c9e27d49 |
| EC Number | **216-539-5** |
| Gmelin Reference | **87367** |
| KEGG | C06119 |
| MeSH | D08.811.277.352.650.500 |
| PubChem CID | 161253 |
| RTECS number | XN6476000 |
| UNII | FQF9KB61HS |
| UN number | UN3380 |
| Properties | |
| Chemical formula | C2H2N4O4S2 |
| Molar mass | 240.18 g/mol |
| Appearance | White solid |
| Odor | Odorless |
| Density | 1.98 g/cm³ |
| Solubility in water | Insoluble |
| log P | -1.49 |
| Acidity (pKa) | -2.7 |
| Basicity (pKb) | -2.6 |
| Magnetic susceptibility (χ) | -60×10⁻⁶ cm³/mol |
| Refractive index (nD) | 1.635 |
| Viscosity | 1190 cP (20 °C) |
| Dipole moment | 2.97 D |
| Thermochemistry | |
| Std molar entropy (S⦵298) | 332.2 J·mol⁻¹·K⁻¹ |
| Std enthalpy of formation (ΔfH⦵298) | -385.8 kJ/mol |
| Std enthalpy of combustion (ΔcH⦵298) | -1460 kJ mol⁻¹ |
| Pharmacology | |
| ATC code | V03AB37 |
| Hazards | |
| Main hazards | May cause respiratory irritation. May cause drowsiness or dizziness. Harmful if inhaled. Causes serious eye irritation. Causes skin irritation. |
| GHS labelling | GHS05, GHS07 |
| Pictograms | GHS05,GHS07 |
| Signal word | Warning |
| Hazard statements | H302 + H315 + H319 + H335 |
| Precautionary statements | P261, P264, P271, P280, P304+P340, P312, P403+P233, P405, P501 |
| NFPA 704 (fire diamond) | 1-1-0 |
| LD50 (median dose) | LD50 (median dose): 250 mg/kg (oral, rat) |
| NIOSH | SN1188000 |
| PEL (Permissible) | Not Established |
| REL (Recommended) | 0.05 ppm |
| Related compounds | |
| Related compounds |
Hexamethylenetetramine Urotropine Tetramethylene sulfone Cage compounds Sulfur dioxide adducts |
