Stink, Stank, Stunk

I've been holed up inside our house much of yesterday and today since the new septic system install started... a couple days late. Our yard is perfumed with the aroma of eau de decades old septic sludge, which I'm sure our neighbors are not appreciating either. Oh, the joys of home maintenance.

To quote redneck sage Cousin Eddie from the Vacation movie franchise, the shitter was full. Or to be more specific, we think the field lines collapsed and that caused raw sewage to back up into the master bathroom on Christmas night. And no wonder since it's our understanding we're still using the original tanks and field lines from the 1950s that got an upgrade in the early 1990s when the square footage went from 1800 to 4300 with the new addition. So yeah, it's undoubtedly waaaaay past time to get a new system. We started having troubles with it in the fall and figured it was on its last leg. Sure enough, it went belly up at Christmas time. Here we are, a solid six weeks later, finally getting a lovely new aerobic septic system installed.

I had no idea we'd have to hire a licensed septic engineer to design a new system that the city would have to approve before we could even get a quote for the install, but there ya go. I've been not so patiently waiting for all of this to be resolved, but whatcha gonna do since fretting doesn't make the wheels turn any faster. We were exceedingly grateful to have the guesthouse on a completely separate, and thankfully newer septic system that accommodates its full bath and kitchen over there. Back in late December, the husband dug down to the top of the old septic tank and popped the lid off it so that I was still be able to use the washing machine every week for several loads, but that was pretty much it. We couldn't send any solids down the lines, if you get my drift.

The husband messaged me about an hour ago that the workers hit our water main when they were trenching the new septic lines. No surprise there. The younger me would have been a basket case, dealing with septic issues while walking with my mother through the last month of her life. The older, wiser me realizes I'm being challenged and thus refined to grow my patience in the storms of life. To trust in God's perfect will and timing. I'm not saying I won't ever run around like a chicken that just had its head lopped off. Or be tempted to fall on the floor and have some sort of conniption fit. Praise God, that in His grace He's still working on me. I find strength and peace when I remember that He's bigger and mightier than any crappy situations I find myself facing. Backed up toilets, sewer gas and all.