Talk about flushing money down the toilet! This is the pit and trench that Go-To dug
by hand to uncover the septic tank. A friend sent another tank guy to take a look and his estimate was much better than Smelly Mel's, although the original diagnosis was correct. The leach field has failed and must be replaced. All I know is this involves a lot of digging, rock, pipes, and money. I called another guy to come and pump out the tank (more money). This gentleman talked nonstop during the entire process. Those of us who spend a lot of time alone seem to spew words and ideas without control if given a captive audience. I do it myself, so I understand, but it still makes me smile. Not twenty minutes after pump guy left, Keith and his helper, Denny, drove up and unloaded a backhoe in the front yard. This place, normally a "no-man's land," is crawling with men. Bessie Anne is beside herself with all the comings and goings. She and Frank have to inspect everything. Frank is actually in the bucket of the backhoe in the photo, and later went up into the cab to check that out, too.
Bess apparently has short-term memory loss. In the house at dusk, she looked out the door and began growling at the strange figure looming in the shadows of the front yard (the backhoe).
Attempting to reach Smelly Mel to cancel his appointment for next week, I discovered that his phone has been disconnected! My guardian angels are on duty, albeit their wings are pretty dirty right now, they're holding their robes up high, and I fear they smell to high heaven, but they sent the right guy at the right time.
To be continued.
