WARNING: THIS WILL GROSS YOU OUT!
So I told the dude anytime before 2:30 pm, I had to go to the office then.
So 2:30 came and no septic dude. I headed to the office and checked my BRAND NEW phone and it was off. Seems if I close it up it cuts its self off, sometimes, not all the time, but this time it had and Septic Guy had called and left a message at 2 pm so I called him back and he was on his way. So I called the office and explained the whole thing to them, no problemo, nothing going on anyway.
So he arrives and I show him where I was 100% sure it was located and he sticks his (metal) rod in the ground (I'm wait anxiously, Jeff, for a comment here) and it sinks to the handle. Nope, this is not the spot, but there is a depression about 4 ft away and there he hit something solid. I paid him $200 in cash and he said when his assistant got there and helped him back the truck down the driveway by directing the traffic on the road he would get to work and let me know how it went. He added since there was no way for him to get in the house he could not test it. I should have left the door open, but I was thinking about getting to the office.
So he calls two hours later to tell me:
A. The pump out is done and the tank was not full. (Oh Boy)
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B. He ran the snake up in the drain line and got several roots out.
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C. The "T" was broken, but he could come back on Monday to put an new one on for $35. He left it uncovered so it would be no problem to get to.
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D. If when I got home I found the situation was not any better to call him on Monday and he would come back with the rotorooter and work from the inside out and clear out the roots.
So at 6 pm I left the office, hoping but not betting on everything working like it should, but also with a kind of giddy excitement. I was glad he had left it uncovered because I really wanted to see the septic tank. My father had built and installed it, and I remember his plant when I was a kid, less than 4, playing inside the concrete bunkers set up to cure. My mind had made a mental image of this one, based on other things I had seen done to the house and I imagined some degraded piece of rubble barely serving its function.
I had been to other pump outs before, and had wondered if the hoard of tiny black flies would escape into the long fabled light they hadn't seen for a thousand generations. I didn't ask the Septic Guy. I parked and hurried around to the clothes line and there in the raw red clay gash in the ground it sat. Just like I remembered all the others looking like, solid concrete with two lids to be pried up. It was almost like being able to dig daddy himself up to say hello.
So now that I have totally creeped you out, I will have to call Septic Guy back on Monday to bring the rotorooter, it is still not working like it is supposed to. He will come and take care of that and the "T" and cover the tank back up and I will wonder if my life will be long enough to allow me another visit with this piece of my father that has continued on long past his time on earth. By the time it needs to be cleaned again it will be older than he ever lived to be.
I wonder just how many he poured into those metal forms, how many he planted, some still sitting there disused in a back yard after the advent of public sewer service, waiting for the day Bubba drives his monster truck over it, and it explodes in "ripetousness" and covers him in a plague of little black flies.
Topic: Shakesthegrounds Rumblings (Read 2589292 times)