FROM THE Editor’s Desk

Anyone who has dealt with a backed-up septic knows it’s no picnic.

Our septic backed up into our basement about a week ago (two weeks by the time you read this). Luckily it was contained to a small, unfinished room where our big chest freezer is kept. But it was still a disgusting job to clean it up, not to mention the stench.

I called our usual plumber/septic experts, and they said it would be a week until they could get out, due to being short staued and overly busy. They said they would call when they had an idea of when they could be here. Not ideal, but we figured we could live with it. We’ve been taking showers and doing laundry at my mother’s house. I’ve had a vacation from dishes and cooking, which is not a terrible thing. The bathroom situation has been less than fun, but luckily we’re not home much these days. Carolina likened it to camping and thought it was great. I do not concur.

A week went by with no word, so I called the septic company again. The less than cheerful woman on the other line told me that they did not have me on the emergency list.

I’m positive I told them it was an emergency (how much more specific did I need to be?), but I let it go and just asked that they please try to send someone in the next day or so.

She made no promises, so I started researching other companies. I had wanted to use this one, because we’ve been happy with their service before and they’re familiar with our system.

The next day, I was on the road to the Ellsworth Chamber luncheon when the plumber called and said he’d be at my house in 15 minutes. Of course, I thought. I was at their mercy, so I turned around and back home I went.

The technician arrived and I’m pretty sure a white halo hovered above his head. He looked like an angel to me, anyway. Until he informed me that he needed me to help him find the septic tank cover outside. I had a gen eral idea where it was, but unfortunately it was buried beneath brush and sumac. It took a bit of hunting, but I found the stake marking its location as a black snake slithered over my foot. The burly technician screamed like a little child and informed me he was scared of snakes. Well, good thing it slithered over my foot, I thought as I tried to be comforting.

I’m not fond of them, but screaming wasn’t going to help the situation.

About two hours later, the angel technician grew devil horns as he informed me that most likely we will need a new sewer pipe from the house to the tank, which is about 130 feet. It will cost thousands. We also may need to demolish a retaining wall to replace the pipe. The pipe is about 45 years old and age has caused it to develop dips, or “bellies” that fun stuu gets caught in, causing clogs. He promised we could make due for now if we were careful and that he could come unclog the drain again if needed. As Trapper the Bagle hound pup barooed woefully from his tether in the yard, I felt like laying down in the grass and barooing sorrowfully with him.

Unfortunately, I do not have a money tree.

The technician washed his hands in the kitchen sink and left, at which point I ran downstairs to check the drain. I bet he didn’t think he’d have to make good on that promise 10 minutes later, but he had to turn around and come back as it had flooded again after he washed his hands. Rather than regale you with more “trash” talk, it turned out to be a clogged kitchen sink line. He still recommended planning to replace the septic pipe, but I was relieved that he finally got to the root of the problem. And I got a nice compliment that our kitchen sink line was remarkably grease-free. I guess all my harping about what gets dumped down the drain has helped.

As his truck pulled away for a second time, I was thankful for him, even with his depressing news about our septic pipe. I’m learning to really not take things for granted this year: I never thought I’d be grateful to do laundry.