I was not thrilled with the prospect of having to dig a hole in my suburban back yard to do my business. But I had no choice.
Earlier that day the septic system in our century-old house in Belgium had backed up, filling our basement with ick. This was the fourth backup in as many months. Something was seriously amiss.
The landlady sent over a crew with a camera. They put the gear down the manhole. They turned it on. With cigarettes dangling from their mouths they uttered a single exclamation: “Catastrophe!” The landlady had a serious problem on her hands.
She sent a crew over to dig up the crumbling septic tank and the broken pipes running to the street. I imagine these materials had been installed in pre-Roman times. There was mostly nothing left to dig up, except for the soiled soil, care of 1,000 flushes directly into our yard. To describe the excavated pile as smelly and gross would be the understatement of the year. It was also a health hazard.
The crew finished for the day. The crew leader then casually mentioned to my wife that they would be back to recommence work…IN ONE MONTH. My wife asked him to repeat himself. She wanted to be sure she understood. Her French is not parfait.
He looked at her quizzically and explained that the official holiday period began the very next day. The company would be closing for one month. The entire Belgian septic industry would be closing for one month.
My wife gently pointed out that there was a mountain of dirt and raw sewage on our front lawn. She asked what happened for all other such septic emergencies during the holiday period. The septic worker puffed sympathetically on his cigarette. He shrugged and said, “meh”. Then he left on holiday.
Which left me that evening wearing my rubber boots, with toilet paper and trowel in hand, trudging towards our back yard in a light Belgian rain to respond to nature’s inconvenient call.
To add insult to injury, we had houseguests. As I dug the hole of shame near the backyard hedge, they looked on from the window and cheered. Then, mercifully for all involved, they closed the blinds.
[If you know someone else who might enjoy a lighthearted story to begin their week, kindly forward them the link to WordsfortheWeary. The more the merrier.]
My advice would be to lay off that Scottish beer in the background,
it clearly goes right through a guy like you.