A few months ago the sewer department came out and put No Parking sandwich boards up and down the block. The guy in the big truck said they were going to work on the sewer line in front of my house the following day. They didn’t. The signs were up for a couple weeks and then people just started taking them down.
I figured they decided my line didn’t need any work. Or they were putting it off because the situation was just too horrible to contemplate, even for sewer workers. It depended on the state of my mind at the time.
The entire idea of sewer repair interferes with my mental well-being in a fundamental way. The whole beauty of the indoor plumbing miracle, to my way of thinking, is the way a bunch of stuff you’d rather not take care of yourself just magically goes away. Don’t care where. “Away” is good enough. Sometimes it balks, but that’s a personal nuisance that can usually be remedied with four trips to the hardware store and a youtube video. I certainly do not like to be reminded of the possibility that my bunch of stuff might still be loitering nearby, or creating a pudding situation under the pavement that will lead to a nasty sinkhole and a fragrant breach of the asphalt containment system.
But yesterday they put out the signs again and by gum if a whole convoy didn’t roll in this morning and camp in front of our house.
“Hi there!” I chirped to the worker in charge of standing over the hole and staring. “What’s going on here?”
“Well, ma’am, we’re looking into a possible broken or offset joint at the lateral to the main associated with…” he glanced up at our address…”this house.” Or something. I’ve never had a broken or offset joint but sometimes I have troubles with my laterals and a few days of exercises usually takes care of it. In any case, he wasn’t worried. He did have a question.
“Do you know where your sewer cleanout is?”
Um…don’t you?
“And do you know if you’re on a party line?”
Um…don’t you? Really, if I wanted to know that sort of thing, I’d ask the sewer department. You guys. I don’t even know what a sewer cleanout is. I thought it was all WHOOSH downhill to the big smelly pond and as long as that was far, far away, we were good. I do know what a party line is, because we had one when I was a kid, and sometimes you could pick up the phone and hear someone else’s conversation. I’m really hoping it isn’t like that in my sewer.
Anyway, ultimately the guy said everything was fine, and he assured me it was fixed and a new cleanout installed, and someone would be by at a later date to seal the asphalt patch.
“While I’ve got you here,” I said, “were you able to see anything in the sewer lateral next door? That’s our rental house, and there’s a very established rat hole right about where the sewer line is. I always figured there was a little leak there and the rats are living next to a restaurant, from their point of view.”
“Ah, rats. Well, it’s possible. But generally speaking you don’t have to worry much about rats coming up through your toilet.”
“I hadn’t even thought about…”
“Oh it happens,” my fellow went on, with some enthusiasm. “It’s just not likely. The rats get to the point where the trap is and it’s full of water and they just don’t want to go.”
Now I don’t want to go, either.
“Do you know where your sewer clean out is?” “Umm – you’re standing right in front of me?”
Rats in the toilet? In Australia, they sometimes get snakes in the toilet.
Cementing my personal travel ban right there, because of the climate crisis, of course.
Ha ha. We had a neighbor who had a squirrel go there. It apparently fell down a vent pipe on the roof and after some trine it must have ‘seen the light” and decided to swim for it. The toilet lid was down and it made some sort of ruckus that alerted our neighbors. I can’t remember all the details but I know a soaking wet squirrel eventually shot out the front door.
There would have been a soaking wet human involved if I’d been there.
The sewer department uses sandwich boards. Sounds like a real picnic.
Special sauce!
Yes, rats have been known to commute between apartments via the sewer line.
I’ve never had anything living come up through the toilet, but I have tested the limits of what can be flushed.
When I was a kid, I once had the bright idea of disposing of a bunch of aquarium gravel by flushing it down the toilet. It did eventually exit the bowl but the water bill must have been interesting that quarter.
I continued my adventures with what shall not go down after I moved out. Or as my parents put it, “You have three months to find some place else to live.” They were really sweet in hindsight.
Anyway, a rather large goldfish died at the new house. I knew better than to drop it in the trash and for some reason I didn’t think about burying it in the yard. Why oh why didn’t I think of burying it in the yard?
Yeah, disposed of with Naval honors. Plugged up the toilet hood and solid. Royo-Rooter came out (after hours at after hours rated if course). “What kind of fish is it?” He asked and was relieved when he heard it was a goldfish. He’d had to remove a catfish once. Its pectoral spines erected and hooked it in place. He had to remove it in chunks.
In the end the toilet needed to be removed to get the goldfish out. And then it was reseated. Badly. It leaked. I figured that out when the toilet began to list to the left. I liked to joke that you could take a shit and get a shower in one go.
In the end that fish cost me a huge amount of money and time to put things right.
Why didn’t I bury it in the yard?
THAT MUST HAVE BEEN A BIG-ASS GOLDFISH.
It was. It was a comet sold as turtle food that evaded the turtle until it (the goldfish) was huge. Body was probably seven inches long with a four inch tail.
I live in a block of flats so I assume I’m “on a line” but I don’t think there’s much partying about it.
My dad was a plumber and gasfitter and I learned from a very early age what must NOT get flushed.
Did you learn from experience? I flushed something the other day that was *supposed* to be flushed but, in my opinion, should have been bronzed instead.
Brilliant as ever. You make me giggle everytime. I did also love the tale of the goldfish down the loo. What if it had leapt into life?
I’m pretty sure that fish was being koi. And thank you!
Ha-ha!
Yes, it has happened. In 1973 my sister and I lived next to a sewage treatment plant in Corvallis, and one evening she opened the lid and there was a rat doing laps. Screaming commenced. We always kept the lid down and lifted it slowly before going after that. It sure made going to the bathroom fraught with peril.
I’m pretty sure I would have a premature evacuation.
Omg — I live next door to a “wastewater” treatment plant. I assume that’s a polite way of saying sewage. I’m going to assume that there have been technical improvements in the years between your childhood and now and such a thing could never happen in my house. Frankly I’m too old to hover.
If it weren’t for hovering, my thigh muscles would get little exercise at all. Sometimes, when out and about, one has to use rather manky looking facilities, like gas station bathrooms, or, worse yet, a porta-potty. Hovering is the only way to get through it. That, and if you’re using a porta-potty… DON’T LOOK DOWN! (And, yes, I do, but instantly regret it. It’s like looking at an accident; one can’t NOT look.)
I actually can not look at an accident or a porta-potty inner sanctum.
I saw an accident victim at a rather tender age. This was back when seat belts just went across the lap and were rarely used. Person got ejected through the windshield. Fortunately this was before they figured out I needed glasses, so I missed the specific details, just white shirt, dark pants and red.
You mean, you live next to a birding hot spot.
Now THIS is entertainment!
Ok, am I the only one who sometimes flushes leftover food down the toilet? Like the leftover beef stew sans the beef, just some random pieces of carrot and potatoes. I don’t want to overload the plastic garbage bag. Also, from time to time, some pasta. I’ve never had a clogged toilet from that, at least so far.
You are the ONLY ONE. You start feeding the toilet, it starts waking you up hungry.
So that explains the middle of the nights trips to the loo…it’s not my bladder, it’s subliminal messages from the damn thing.
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Waste Pipes having party lines? That sounds like the time I was staying in a sub-standard hotel in Mexico, and the gal in the room next door had a bad case of Montezuma’s Revenge. All night long the smell wafted up from the floor drain in the bathroom in my room…..