Into Each Life Some Excrement Must Fall

So Wifey and I had a great trip to the Left Coast -- saw my nephew Henry and his wife Valerie, and my sister Sue. The 5 of us toured great wineries in Sonoma and Napa, and then spent three rainy but still great days in Half Moon Bay, where Steely Dan would have written, the Asian gentlemen sleep all day. We ate and drank exceptionally well, and took the red eye home yesterday am. I went to the office to toss out the last of 2015's junk mail, and returned to two flooded toilets and a bathtub with an inch of brown water. I'm no handy man, but Wifey is truly clueless --thinking it a bad coincidence that two toilets went on the blink at the same time! I explained it was a systemic problem -- a back up somewhere -- and called Smith Septic, one of my favorite companies. It's owned by Wendell Smith, now near 80, who has the sense of humor required of one who has literally dealt with shit for his entire career. The message was cheerful but upsetting -- they close EVERY year before Christmas through New Year's, but recommend emergencies call A Above All, their Homestead neighbor. I did, and Ken answered right away -- he could come by first thing next am. He called at 7 having just serviced his biggest customer -- the Fountainbleau on the Beach. He told me that baby wipes are a property owner's nightmare but a plumber's dream -- they clog the pumping stations and keep him busy. We recognized each other -- Ken had been out over 10 years ago to pump sludge out of the bottom of my fish pond -- Wendell Smith referred him -- as his company has the most powerful trucks. Ken is a little fellow -- maybe just 5 feet -- and also possessed of the great sense of humor required of a long career in the doody field. He opened our clean out, and put down first a high pressure hose, and later a metal snake. Sure enough -- some white paper products -- maybe feminine -- sloshed out into the septic tank. He had me flush toilets, and joy and flowing water returned to Villa Wifey. But not so fast... he said the reason for the clog was probably roots making their way into the line -- truly fixing the problem would take digging and cost $575. The pump out was only $150. I was going to have Ken return Sunday, but remembered D1's boyfriends parents are coming over to meet us, and having a septic guy there might not give the finest appearance. So we made a date for the following Sunday -- which happens to be Wifey and my 29th anniversary. I figure the symbolism is too perfect -- she's been puttnig up with my crap all these years, why not have a guy over who keeps the literal type flowing where it should. So the end of the year approaches, and for now, we have working plumbing. As it should be. Enjoying the greater things, and dealing with the excrement -- isn't that, at end, all it's about?