Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the septic line that would not clear
‘Twas in January, cold and bleak,
The toilets did begin to leak.
They wouldn’t flush, they couldn’t drain
Poor father moaned and racked his brain…
The sink backed up, the tub did too
And worst of all, the mother knew
The lament of a laundry room aflood,
And a mess that far exceeded the mud
She’s much accustomed to on the farm
But now the family’s sounded the alarm:
The septic is backed up! The septic is backed up!
To arms..to arms…the septic is backed up!
So sorry…I’m waxing poetic over that instrument of supreme torture formerly known as the septic system. It is so hard to be “grace filled” in the midst of this mess. God wills it, so it must be. But…I must admit that I’m just a mite put out over the plans which have been foiled due to this latest domestic disturbance.
Plans? Are you laughing? Yes…I still have the audacity to have plans of my own. You see…I have surgery coming up in a week and a half. Two weeks minimum of recuperation time before I can do any kind of work and probably more like a month before I’m completely back to normal. All on the heels of Christmas and an extended break. So I’m planning. Laundry: wash it all. Cabinets: stock them. Freezer: prepare meals for the “down time.” School: outline a clear plan of action allowing for as much independent work as possible. Self: videos, books, soothing beverages and soups. And rest, thanks to the loving assistance of husband and mother-in-law.
Those were my plans. And sometimes plans go awry. Just like the septic.
The new plan: spend this Saturday sorting through a sodden, disgusting mass of laundry that had been sorted and bagged for transport to the laundry mat. All…wet. And, well…yeah. They smell really, really bad. Would you want to take them to a public laundry mat? Would you want to be the one in line behind me to use the machine after I did? I sure wouldn’t! I may just have to pitch those things that can be pitched and hang a few things on the ice covered clothes line until the problem is resolved.
There’s still the rest of the list…but I’m losing steam. I’m like that crazy woman who cleans her house before the housekeeper comes. I’m trying so hard to make sure there’s no work left for those who wish to work for me. I think I’m being asked to let go, but it’s really hard to do that. To be vulnerable. To need help. To let others…do.
Ah, well…when life throws muddy water at you…make a mud pie!
Think I’ll go do that now. In my laundry room.