by Wendy Wheatley
My husband and I had rented for years. We were expecting our third child and decided it was time to make the jump – we were going to become homeowners. “Yeah, we’re movin’ on up! To the east side. To a deluxe apartment in the sky-i-i.” Oh yeah – how good it felt.
So we’ve now owned our very own home for just over a year. We had been pretty lucky so far – until last weekend. That’s when the gurgles began. They first emerged from the bathroom sink. A sinister “Glub, glub, glub” belched from the wicked drain. It was straight from “Jaws”. Dadum, dadum, da da da da da da. My daughter and I carefully stole a peek at the sink from a safe distance around the corner. There was no way we were going to challenge this beast. We know what happens to the carefree swimmers – they don’t make it. Dadum, dadum, da da da da. Jaws will snatch them right up. We’re staying in the lifeboat.
My husband came home and immediately called Mr. Rooter. Six long, long hours and 4 overflowing drains later – Mr. Rooter finally appears and decides to drag his ol’ rooter over to our quickly sinking home. We watched him mosey on up to the exposed septic pump and he looked down at the hole long and hard and scratched his head slowly as if in a deep thoughtful trance. “Hmmmm.” He walked to the other side of the pump, stared at it and again scratched his head slowly. Mr. Rooter repeated this “rooter ritual” for another 5 minutes before he finally spoke. My husband and I sighed a breath of relief. This would be the man to fix our horrible septic problems. This would be the man who would know exactly what to do. He would be the lifeguard to save us from Jaws! We could hardly contain our relief, knowing this septic nightmare would be over shortly! Mr. Rooter paused another moment, scratched his head thoughtfully and said, “Yep. Hell of a mess ya got here.” Jaws wins again. We didn’t even struggle. We got swallowed right up. Mr. Rooter was really Mr. Doofer in disguise. “You better get someone out here right away to fix this.” And with that Mr. Rooter left.
We spent the entire weekend (company was in town staying with us, of course)fixing the septic pump which was struggling to keep its last breath of life. My husband finally brought the dying septic pump roaring to life with the help of a guest who was staying with us (do you blame him?). And we’ve had septic-free problems for 2 days. Wait a minute, the roof in our bedroom is leaking. Stay here while I get the number for Mr. Roofer. I’ve heard he can do wonders.