Tag Archives: septic tank

Have you ever had one of those days….

.

You know the ones, they start out innocently enough, swerve and then drive you straight to Hell. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.

Mine was this past Saturday when I attempted to do some gardening. Pansies needed to be planted in my pots on the barn porch… but this did not go as planned.

.

.

All I did was pick them up, I swear! The bottom fell out of one, the other split in half. I should have quit then, I really should have… but no. I decided to fire up the old weed wacker and trim.

I trimmed around my garden beds, I trimmed around the apple trees and then I trimmed around the septic tank access block.

Bad idea. Very bad.

The ground was still wet… which caused my foot to slip… which caused the weed wacker to knock the cement cover askew… which rammed a piece of rotted wood in the frame….

.

.

And… well. It went downhill from there.

Literally and figuratively.

.

.

I’ll spare you the odoriferous details, but trust me… they were epic. 🤢

Suffice it to say we spent the entire afternoon with our heads in the septic tank.

I do not recommend this as a relaxing weekend activity. Not one little bit.

.

.

A new concrete tank cap was purchased and maneuvered into place (God damn! Those things are heavy.) and a new frame was built so yours truly is not able to repeat this mishap.

.

.

I kept trying to tell my husband it could have been worse. The cover could have fallen into the tank and someone… I’m not saying who… would have had to climb in to retrieve it.

Oddly enough, he didn’t find that the least bit funny.

.

💩

.

I love my town.

.

In the continuing series Small Town Life Be Different…. here are the latest missives from mine.

.

.

This was so sweet. Our local UPS man… who distributes doggie treats on his route… is in the hospital with pneumonia, so all his four legged customers posted pictures.

.

.

Because traffic alerts in the country are less about speeding and more about manure.

.

.

Every year the women of the Historical Society sew a quilt with local scenes to be auctioned off.

.

.

The Town Office bought the first one where it still hangs proudly.

.

.

Yes, I showed this to the husband. And no, he hasn’t removed his absolutely no chickens ban.

.

.

Yikes. Critters that crawl under your house and die are the worst. But I can’t say I’ve ever known one to stink of garlic. And speaking of stinking…

.

.

Word to the wise… if you think it’s your year? It most definitely is. 🤢

.

.

As he predicted, this man’s post got a whole lotta hate. He’s new to the area… and I’m guessing he isn’t going to be very popular. Buying a house in a rural part of Maine means generations of the previous owners might still be inhabiting your back 40. A man up the road from us has a cemetery from the late 1700’s on his land. He doesn’t know the family or their descendants, but lovingly cares for the plot all the same. It’s called respect.

.