Tuesday, Aug. 13, 2002
Dear Diary:

As of about 10 a.m. yesterday there was a whole lot less crap around here.

Getting the septic tank cleaned is a major hassle. We have to find a sewage sucking guy willing to come to our isolated home. That done, we have to play Find The Septic Tank Lids, dig down to them, get them pried up.

When the lids come off we are always amazed at the quantity in the tank. Although there are only two of us, the spousal unit and I are wonderful examples of what a high fibre diet can do.

And aren't we all glad I shared THAT?

Exactly.

The pi�ce de r�sistance of course is this ginormous truck rumbling up here and with much noise and stink vacuuming up the mass turdage.

After driving up our steep road, this year's lucky winner of "Take My Crap, Please" was incredulous that we live up here full time.

"But what do you do in the winter?"

I told him that we close our road and snowmobile in and out. He digested that thought while my eyes watered from the stench venting from the truck pump.

Clearly he thought we were nuts, but in a harmless, non-violent sort of way.

There is a crucial part to the septic sucking ritual and that is The Final Look In The Tank. Now, frankly, I really don't need to be doing this. I can hear by the sound the hose is making that it's drawn up everything that it's going to draw up.

At that point I would be perfectly happy to just hand the wad of cash to the sewage sucking guy and have him pop the lids back on so I can begin shovelling the dirt back over said lids, get the dirt raked and get some grass seed on it.

But oh, no, it is a crucial part of the ritual that I am forced to peer down in the hole and comment on the quality of the work.

There are only two situations in my life where I have had to peer down at a few floating turds and make sounds of great pleasure and excitement.

The first was when I was toilet training my daughter. Toilet training is all about the positive re-enforcement. Each time I would peer down into the toilet and see a tiny turd flotilla much ado would be made about this flotilla.

The other situation is each time we get the septic tank sucked. Yes, each time we get the tank sucked I am forced to peer down into a hole and make much ado about another tiny turd flotilla.

For those of you with an anthropological bent, you may want to note that my daughter and the sewage sucking guy wore pretty much identical expressions over the quality of their workmanship in the field of floating turds--a sort of shy pride in a job well done.

Ah, if only everyone cared this much about what they do, eh?

--Marn

Old Drivel - New Drivel


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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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