(in the immortal words of Jack O’Neill)
Mentioned sewage treatment plants the other day, which must have been prophetic. No such luxury out here, of course. It’s septic systems all round, and seeing as building codes don’t apply outside city limits, many interesting things can happen with the plumbing. For instance, the toilet in my downstairs bathroom originally sat on a 3-inch-dais. When the contractor and I ripped open the floor we figured out why in a hurry: the waste pipe ran uphill.
Now, a couple of months ago, the neighbors had a little trouble with their septic system. It’s got a concrete tank, which cracked. This is Not A Good Thing. In consequence there was merry toing and froing of contractors for about two weeks, and enough pourage of concrete to rebuild the Sydney Opera House.
This morning one of the contractors returned, followed in due course by the truck of a local septic service. Delivering a PortaCabin… Like I said, Oh crap!
Right now they’re dumping another truckload of concrete in there… Want to guess how grateful I am that the neighbors’ property is below mine?
