Home ownership sucks. Country home ownership sucks ass! Two years ago, we moved into what was supposed to be my "dream home" You know.. quiet, country air, lots of land for the kids to play on, and a mountain of work and remodeling that needed to be done to make it 'Just Right'. Today, 65% of all that work that makes a house into a home is still unfinished. I have no emotional attachment to this place. In fact, if the local farmer would hurry up, get off his ass and make me an offer, it'd be all "peace-out girl scout" And I'd be kicked back somewhere where some other poor sap had already done all the work for me!
Alas, this is not the case at the moment. Let me explain. 'Country Living' is not all it's cracked up to be. I'll revisit this at a later time though. Let's start, instead with my shitty day...
You see, despite living outside of town, we have city water. Awesome right? Well fuck ya! Who wants to drink that yellow well water shit? Not this girl! The problem? We still have a septic tank. Why? I have no fucking clue! And WHY is it that said tank o'shit is located directly beneath my FRONT lawn? Again, no fucking clue.
Anywhoo... Yesterday morning, I begin a load of clothes and head to the couch to do a little blogging. Im alarmed by the sudden 'glug glug glug' sound I suddenly hear coming from my kitchen sink. Upon exception, I find nothing out of the ordinary except a horrible smell. Figuring that the dog must have farted, I dismissed mystery smell and went back to my best friend (my laptop). A few minutes later, the 'glug glug glug' sound continued, and the smell got worse. On a hunch I headed into my master bath to scope the sitch' out. What did I find? My tub filling in reverse with nothing other than human excrement. THERE WAS SHIT COMING UP IN MY BATHTUB!
After I taught my three year old how to say 'oh shit'! I ran into the laundry room (which also serves as a half-bath) to turn off the washer, figuring that HAD to be the problem. Only, I never made it all the way because upon entering, shit hit the fan - literally. The toilet in there (which is NEVER) used had exploded in a manor that can only be described as 'Hulk Smash'. There was shit EVERYWHERE! All over the floor! Splashed up the walls, on the washer. And possibly worse, I had been lazy previously and instead of removing clean clothes, folding and putting them away, I left them in the laundry room- in a laundry tote, which was now the only obstacle blockading the poop pool from escaping into the rest of my house.
Right now, you're probably thinking - Wow, that sucks, but that's got to be the worst of it right? Well, once you get to know me, you'll realize how very dumb it is to EVER think that!
- First thing was first - I got on the horn, and got my kids the hell out of dodge while this shit went down. Yes, I fully intend to capitalize in the puns in this post - I've earned it!
- Next, I called my husband frantic screaming things like "OH MY GOD"... "911"... "Get the fuck home NOW" and "Bring me a fucking Xanax!"
- Finally, we called the septic man, with big fat ZERO results...
You see, we made the assumption that the septic tank had suddenly filled up and was backing the fuck up - like that song "Back that ass up" but not as sexy. Every company we called couldnt empty it, or wouldn't be available for days. DAYS! So we next called a plumber, who also wasn't available until after-hours (How bloody convenient) and therefore, we'd be paying double-over time for TWO men for as long as it took the problem to be resolved. BTW - in what world does 4:30pm equate to 'after hours' ???
Sucking it up, left with no other choice, I agreed to pay any amount, including but not limited to sexual favors to get the problem fixed. Shortly there after, (I"m fast-forwarding through all the tears, vomit, clean up and other shit you really don't want to hear about) We found the problem. The tank was in fact, NOT full. The problem? Whichever ass-hat built this hell hole in the first place decided that not only was the front yard the place to be for a 20ft. deeply burried septic tank, but that he also should NOT place an outside access point, and just for good measure, he threw in a 90degree angel in the pipe leading into the tank. The solution, in theory, sounded simple. Snake out the pipe. The problem? There was NO fucking access except through the tank. And it had to be emptied by ONE company before a completely DIFFERENT company could snake the pipe! Lovely. Of course, none of this could possibly be done until the next day. (Does it get any better?)
**Fast-forward through my exciting evening showering, bathing the spawn, and doing laundry with my in-laws**
I'd like to point out that you never realize how much you poop until you can't do it. I'd also like to point out that nothing makes you NEED to poop like knowing that doing so requires driving across town to your in-laws. That, or dig a hole or shit in a bucket. Both of which my husband was more than willing to do. I, however was NOT! This morning, the previous owners of the home paid us a kindly visit. They THEN (not before it became a problem) imparted on us the knowledge that yes, they were aware of the problem and to prevent this situation, we should have it snaked out preventatively twice a year. **Biting my tongue until I can feel the blood trickle down my throat** Luckily, he also shared with us that there is in fact, an outside access. So we didn't need to pay the $400 to have the tank pumped just yet. The problem? It was conveniently buried. UNDERNEATH MY GODDAMN GARDEN!
Let me explain why this pissed me off - you see, NO landscaping on this massive piece of property is worth a shit. I spent HOURS finally getting that particular spot done, with the intention of moving on to another soon. The weed barriers had been laid, bulbs planted and finally starting to sprout, mulch painstakingly applied. So I can think of no other place where the outlet should be buried except for under THERE!
**Fast-forward through more tears, vomit, cursing, and chain-smoking**
I'm happy to say that as of 3 hours ago, we have working plumbing again. The mess has been cleaned and all is right in my world once again although my bank account is now significantly lighter.
The moral of this story - you know how they say "It could always be worse"? Well, they're right! I'm willing to bet your day was not any shittier than mine!