Good to go
Our shit farm had its first annual service this morning. Some of my more faithful, losery readers may remember from last year that putting in a new septic system was a condition of sale for Badger House.
Not just a regular old septic tank — oh, no. The hippies who run Britain decree’d we must have a state-of-the-art chrome-plated shit processing factory. It has a pump and a computer and it goes shusss-shusss-shusss- softly while I sit in the garden trying to contemplate the beauty of creation and not so much the poops running along tiny conveyor belts under my feet.
It’s a high-strung, finicky filly, this thing, and it needs regular looking after. Two of the nicest shit-techs you could ever meet turned up this morning and saw to ours. This they did without gloves, cheerfully rescuing newts from the pipes with their bare hands and tossing them onto the grass.
Uncle B, who is inclined a bit toward the Howard Hughsian, had to wash his hands every time he saw them touch the machinery. That was worth the price of admission right there.
What? You didn’t think I could post about something other than myself two days running, did you?
January 29, 2009 — 8:54 pm
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