In the Poo

I get on with BabyBro, he’s a decent enough chap and my next door neighbour. Bit moody - but I blame that on a bout of viral meningitis in his 20’s – screwed with his brain and now he sees everything in black and white. Decisions for him are easy . . . he’s right, I’m wrong, he’s good everyone else is rubbishl, he knows the truth . . .I know shit . . . And that’s sort of what this post is about.I had noticed that his septic tank has been leaking instead of pumping waste from his house into the main Envirocycle which both houses share.

I mentioned the poo situation to him (via email since it’s winter and due to sport there are no conversations between us beyond “G’day” as we pass each other in the carport).

Little wonder then that he doesn’t seem to notice a disaster about to happen. I on the other hand, notice everything due to my Saturday maintenance duties.

There is a pump in this tank that ensures its foul contents are pumped into a rather sophisticated environmentally-sound, treatment system. The ‘grey’ water it finally filters and produces is then sprinkled on the front lawn. It’s obvious his pump is not working.

So this morning, I get a panicked phone call . . it’s ‘urgent’ says our receptionist:

BB: “Where does this septic pump to?”

Me: “Into the Envirocyle”

BB: “No it doesn’t, I have Paul the Envirocycle man with me and he says there’s only one inlet”

Me: That’s because there’s a junction for the pipes underneath the driveway where your waste joins mine in a happy marriage and honeymoon towards bacterial cleansing and grey-water recycling.”

BB: *disbelieving tone* “Who did your plumbing when you built the house”

Me: “ThePlumber”

BB: “Well that explains it. He did a dodgy job and now there’s sewage pumping God knows where!”

Me: “Yes we do know where . . into the envirocycle . . .”

BB” Can’t be Paul says there’s only one inlet pipe. Where does the septic pump to? *we have come full circle without resolution*

See where I’m going with this . . . he took the word of Paul the EnviroMan (who I have known for many, many years). He checks aeration and chlorine. Paul is a nice man. He has a little kit of water testing thingamies and puts clean chlorine blocks in the appropriate cells. He checks water turbidity and the aerator then leaves me a nice little report and a bill for $75 – he is not a Poomaster or a Plumber, he doesn't even clean greastraps and septic tanks. I was there when the pipes were laid. I know exactly where his waste is going when there’s a normally functioning pump!

So, I hung up with the shits and went back to work and left the two of them cogitating and prognosticating on how so much poo could easily traverse a 100mm diameter pipe. I don’t know how thick his cables are but mine would certainly have no trouble reaching their destination!

What really gets me is how can you not ‘notice’ poo and wee and washing water trickling down your garden? How can you not notice that there is water seeping through the brickwork outside your kitchen until finally the hose on the dishwasher snaps and all hell breaks loose? How can you not notice that your dog is deaf until one day your niece backs over him because he can’t hear the oncoming car?

Is it a boy thing? Like not being able to find matching socks or your favourite jumper despite the fact that both are staring you in the face?