There is nothing that brings out my “city girl” thinking more than dealing with septic tank problems…
…and we’ve got problems at our house…for the second time in a month.
I know I’m becoming more and more like a country girl because I wear rubber boots all year ’round but conversations about septic tanks still embarrass me. Last time we had the septic tank pumped out, I crossed my fingers that nothing serious was going on – and then I sent my husband to deal with the fallout.
But this time? Well, Chris is away so it was all up to me. I put on my rubber boots, set up the hose, welcomed the septic tank man onto our property and then ventured into “THE” talk. Ugh.
Although I dreaded the moment, it was actually very educational. I watched the pumping process this time and asked a lot of “city girl” questions with a more developed “country girl” mindset. This learned man had been pumping septic tanks for a long time so the conversation went very smoothly, despite the yucky smell wafting through the air. We talked about baffles and wastewater, perforated pipes and trenches, tile beds and leach fields.
I even engaged this dear man in a stimulating conversation about bacteria. Cool, huh? I heard some great stories about throwing raw liver or hamburger down the septic tank so that the live bacteria can do its job. The best story was about farmers of yesteryears shooting groundhogs on their property and throwing these dead, rotting carcasses into the tank. My, oh, my…
For some reason, the theme song of the old TV show, Green Acres, came to mind.
I’m learning that I have to roll up my sleeves, step it up with small town, septic-tanked living and be proud of it. There is no place that I would rather live and contrary to popular belief, you CAN take the city out of the girl.
When I texted my husband about the whole experience, he quickly texted back with these endearing words…
“Thanks (for taking care of all this). You’re good at septic stuff. LOL”
Such romantic words. Music to my ears.