Talking Shit | Photo by Amy Reed on Unsplash | Writing Wild, She of the Wild, Beth Morey | Abundant Content
Photo by Amy Reed on Unsplash

We’re #1 in the #2 Business.

This is the slogan of the local people who’ve helped us deal with our year-long plumbing saga recently. It’s on the business card of the guy who unabashedly handed it to me while standing in my driveway assessing our shitty situation. After handing me his card he put some rubber gloves on and began unscrewing the bolts on top of our septic tank.

These guys, they’re desensitized. I am fairly strong-stomached and curious so I too looked when the lid of the septic tank was pried open. Jesus H. No. God, we are animals.

Talking Shit

The tank was pumped and a new leach field installed, somewhere a little further from huge, drought-thirsty pines and cedars we live amidst. The backhoe guys dug up the water line to the cabin in the process and then repaired it, but debris got in the water line when it happened, which then made its way into our toilet tank, which caused flotation, fill, and flush strength issues (damn straight I learned all about toilets).

I don’t remember ever having this many toilet issues anywhere I have ever lived, but what I do remember is that when I lived in New Mexico, I knew people who still used outhouses, and although digging a giant hole and eventually filling it in and then digging a brand new hole and moving the whole shack over it was a huge endeavor, it didn’t have to happen that frequently and honestly, it was a much simpler process than all this – as are composting toilets which, while generally expensive to install, make so much more sense, especially in drought-stricken California (which is why laws about installing them are so archaic here, of course).

Yes folks, I have youtube-universitied. Both my wife and I have figured out how to install a toilet, how to replace the parts inside the tank, and how to detect a leak and figure out where it’s coming from. We have figured all this out the hard way, of course, by diagnosing an endless and ongoing but related list of problems.

In fact, my wife and I have been dealing with something related to our cabin bathroom pretty much since the day we got married last year. We laugh at the metaphor of how this here is our married life right now, standing in a tiny space together dealing with our shit.

One should be so lucky.

 

Writing Wild, Day 2: I Don’t Remember (or, “Talking Shit”)
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