Wake Up and Smell the ...

Sewage.

Certainly not the coffee. This morning I woke to the lovely aroma of sewer gas wafting throughout my entire house. While I've been in Minnesota for the past two years, strange things have been going on with the mechanicals in this house. The oil tank has a slow leak (shh - I'm sure this is a hideously illegal violation of some sort), so instead of using the heat last winter, DH heated the house with wood. He still drives to the gas station, buys kerosene by the gallon and fills the tank himself only as much as necessary to keep the hot water flowing. Why not just replace the 1000 gallon tank? A special type of DH stubbornness. Don't ask.

Apparently the septic pump has been malfunctioning also. Unbeknownst to me, DH has been regularly (weekly?) climbing into the septic pit and manually pumping the tank. Eeewww! (OK, I guess it just involves throwing a switch or something, but it still sounds gross.)

We finally decided this has to stop, so last week he attempted a DIY septic repair. After sustaining a large "zap" from the pump-pit electricals, and envisioning himself electrocuted and falling down into the, umm, dooty water never to be seen again, he decided to call in the pros. So along with my morning cup of java, I get to sit inside and watch strange men with lots of equipment get intimate with our poo outside, and wait a few hours before we can flush. Life in this house is always an adventure.