The Village Idiot: Don’t worry, I have a system
The weather’s getting better every day, summer is just around the corner, and we’ve got a gang of people coming up from the city to spend the weekend with us. We’ve bought the food, we’ve aired out the extra bedrooms, and we’ve picked up all the bigger dust bunnies. The guests should all arrive about noon tomorrow. So I guess we all know what happens next. The septic system fails.
Actually, I don’t think what we have is advanced enough to be called a “system.” Can dumping all the wastewater from your house into a 150-year-old hole in the ground under the side yard really be called a system? That’s like calling your kitchen trashcan a “trash system.” A little fancy considering the situation.
It’s a just stupid pipe that goes into a hole in the ground. How low-tech can you get? What’s to go wrong? The guests arrive in 23 hours. How long does it take to fix something like this? How much will this cost to fix?
“Fixing the broken pipe won’t cost much, but bringing your septic system up to code — well, this is just a guess, but I’d say minimum, five grand.” That’s what Joe the contractor said. What I heard was, “This is a stick-up. Don’t make any sudden moves and no one will get hurt. Now, very slowly reach into your back pocket and hand me your wallet. If everybody keeps their head and no one calls the police, this will be quick and painless. You won’t even miss the money.”
“Are you going to tear up my lawn and leave a big open hole for three months and humiliate me in front of the neighbors?”
“You’ve been watching too many movies. This is real life.”
“I can’t worry about that today,” I told him, “I’ll worry about that tomorrow. When can we start?”
He gave a whistle and backhoe roared to life.
“Don’t you need permission from the town? Some kind of work permit?
“Permits? Permits? We don’t need no stinkin’ permits.”
Great. A contractor and a comedian. He dug up most of the side yard and disappeared. Of all the plumbers, I had to pick this guy?
How did the septic system know we were going to have company? How does the weather know to drop the temperature 20 degrees the day after I take off the storm doors and put on the screens? How do light bulbs know how to burn out when you are in a rush? How do computers know how to crash only when it’s been a long time since your last backup? They watch. They listen. They know.
Joe and his trucks leave for the night. Fifteen hours to go. Our system is still not working. At 9 a.m. Joe shows up again. Three hours to go. This will never be done in time. Two hours to go. They accidentally cut the power line to the house. One hour to go. The power’s back on. A half hour to go, we test flush. Everything works! Dirt is pushed back over the new septic tank, the turf is replaced.
Joe and his equipment pulled out of the driveway at 11:59. Our weekend guests show up at noon. We had dodged the bullet.
“I know you’re happy,” Sue said, “But I don’t think ‘Go ahead, use our toilets as much as you like,’ is great way to greet people.” Maybe I was being a bit too enthusiastic but finally something had gone right. I yelled into toilet, “You can tell your friends the car and the computer — we got a law in this town!”
A beautiful evening followed a beautiful sun-filled afternoon. The table was set on the patio with all the salads and side dishes. All I had to do was cook the steaks and we could eat. They had been on the grill about three minutes when my one and only tank of propane went dry.
Jim Mullen can be reached at jim_mullen@myway.com.