I woke up this morning and made french toast for the kids before they went off to school. After I got all the dishes washed and the kitchen cleaned up, Mallory needed a button sewn on her pants...but had somehow lost the button. So, I found another one and got it sewn on.
Next, I washed, dried, folded and put away a load of laundry.
I also planted a windowbox full of geraniums.
When I went back inside, I noticed a suspicious puddle in the living room. Yes, it was the return of the Leaking Sewage from Hell!!
I ran for a bucket, bleach and other supplies and got it cleaned up. Then, of course, I had to inspect the garage and see if there was any leaking in there...
Finally, I cleaned out the litter box, vacuumed the whole ground floor of the house and washed the floors.
As I wrung out the mop, I thought..Gee! I'm tired! I'd better have a cup of coffee and sit down a minute. Then I looked at the clock.
It was 8:45 am.
Dear God. I'd only been awake since 6am and I'd already done what seemed like a full day of work.
I heated up some organic fair-trade arabica in the microwave and sat down with a copy of New Scientist. I figured I'd sit down for 10 minutes before heading out for the days errands. I needed to go to the bank, the post office and the pharmacy.
JP came into the kitchen.
"The stairs are dirty" he announced.
I took out a small gun that I keep handy and killed him.
It was very sad, but I had no choice.

Ok. I didn't actually shoot him.
I simply explained that I'd been very busy with lots of other tasks and hadn't had time to clean all three floors of our house on this particular morning.

In fact, I explained this so well that he immediately apologised profusely.

Rescue arrived this morning at 8:30am in the form of two elderly French fellows in blue coveralls. (No more goat-bearded youths for me, thanks.) They deserve a round of applause, especially Gerard (seen here in the photo) . Friday is his day off, plus it's his birthday today! When I told him "thanks for coming" and then "Joyeux Anniversaire" he blushed bright red. I think he would have fainted if I'd gone with my idea of singing him the "Happy Birthday" song in English.

I stayed out in the garage to watch most of the septic tank empying operation. Maybe some people would have thought it smelled awful. I, however, having lived with an overflowing tank for nearly a week, thought it smelled distinctly perfumes of Araby-ish.

Sadly, this intervention doesn't mean we can rest easy about our sanitation situation. I was informed by my heros in blue that:
a. our septic tank is very old and is leaking into the ground (Eeeewww!)
b. it's way too small for a six person family,
c. by law, all these old installations have to be brought up to code by 2011
but
d. our village will pay a subvention of 50 to 60 percent of the costs of upgrading;
So, the news wasn't all bad.

When I went out to the garage to watch all the fun this morning, Clio-the cat-who-thinks-she's-a-dog followed me, as she always does when I venture out to hang the laundry and do other chores. Mr. Darcy took advantage of her absence and stole her favorite spot on top of the radiator.
Looks comfy, non?

Septic Tank news: We are still ankle-deep in foul liquids. The septic tank is supposed to be emptied tomorrow morning at 9am, but I'm not getting my hopes up. I'll believe it when I see it.

Medical news: Alexa's new cardiologist is very impressive and I'm hoping we can get some real help there. Once again this morning, she was pretty unwell and couldn't go to school., so help is sorely needed.
She'll get a holter monitor Saturday morning and spend 24 hours with that on, measuring her heart function. After that, we'll see about changing meds. The doc said her heart is still too small to try surgery again.

Political news: McCain is a complete psycho. Did you know that? Of course you did.
You won't vote for him, right?

I'm still living in Sewageland and things are bleak.

On Monday morning, the septic tank guy arrived finally at about 11am. I was so happy to see him that I could have kissed him- except I would have gotten impaled on his many facial piercings. I have to say that it was a bit disconcerting to have the septic tank guy turn out to be a twenty-something with metal bits poked into his face.

And he had a little goat beard. It was kind of like Aslan the Wonder Goat's, but less attractive.

But I was in no mood to be picky. I showed him straight to the Garage of Horrors, which is the origin of the disaster.

"So, where's the septic tank?" he asked.

"Well, it's right there. The big cement thing against the wall."

"That can't be it" he said incredulously.

"Yes, it is." I countered

"No, it's not."

And so it went for several long, f'rustrating minutes.

He refused to even look at the thing. He was convinced (possibly by messages from aliens communicating with him through his piercings) that the septic tank couldn't be in the garage, but must be out in the garden somewhere.

To goat-beard boy, I was nothing but a mildly retarded foreign dimwit female.

He climbed back into his truck, obviously in a huff to be called out for no good reason by some idiot who couldn't even locate her own septic tank.

He told me to hunt around for it by poking a metal rod into the ground.

I'd rather have stuck a sharp metal pole into him.

He further informed me that I really needed a plumber, not a septic tank person, anyway.

OK.

I went back into the house and mopped up the latest infiltrations, using plenty of bleach. (I am all about bleach these days, you better believe it.) Then I called up the local plumber, piteously begging him to come as quickly as ever he could.

He showed up right after lunch. He looked at the big cement block in the garage.

"Well, there's the septic tank..."

You don't say...

But according to him, the problem was not actually the septic tank, but rather the "overflow" tank right beside it. "That's not watertight anymore. I can't fix that. You need a mason."

So, he climbed into his truck and drove off. I again cleaned out the livingroom and then left a message for the local mason..

Well, the mason showed up today at lunchtime. He said that I didn't need a mason. (Are you sensing a pattern here?) What I needed was the plumbing in the upstairs bathroom re-routed and the septic tank needed emptying.

Mmmm...

The next thing I did was phone up the septic tank company and give them a piece of my mind. In my best, most politely insulting French, I told them just what I thought of the Goat Beard Boy who has walked away without even looking at the overflowing tank.

"I'd better not be seeing any bill for his "deplacement"" I warned. "He completely screwed up."

I didn't venture to tell the secretary this, but my suspicion is that while he was at septic tank school he had little time for studying. Getting piercings and keeping that beard trimmed to a point were pretty much a full time job for him.

My time, of course, is mostly occupied with keeping the mess under control and keeping the household running.

Also, Alexa's health hasn't been that great lately. She had to come home from school early today. Luckily, our appointment with a nearby cardiologist is tomorrow afternoon.

Today I finished the wall waxing, which was a freaking miracle, as I have also had to deal with a nightmare of biblical proportions.
It's a flood and, believe me, if there was a big boat waiting to take me away, I'd hop right on it.

It's a flood of sewage from the septic tank.
In the garage.
In the living room.

It is very, very grim.

Sadly, the Romanian Handyman does not do septic tanks, so we have to wait until tomorrow morning for rescue to arrive.

I have to get back and man my station.

I'll write more tomorrow, after the septic tank guy comes.

Wish me luck...