Sewage cleanup was nothing I had the remotest amount of experience dealing with. I didn’t even know where to start.
I love my home. It was my grandparents’ home. They had cleared the land and built it themselves. It was lovely, inside and out, and had even undergone a small remodel to modernize, add on to the pathetic first attempts at a kitchen, add a skylight, and a huge back sunroom, spanning the entire width of the house. I loved the house, even though the neighborhood had gotten run down and seedy. It was my oasis. It was my history.
So I had lived with the dark wood paneling in the basement, the open rafters in the shell of a single-car garage, and the falling-down shed outside, housing rusty old tools that hadn’t seen daylight since my grandfather had died. I had also dealt with a septic tank, for years. But, until sewer lines arrived, I hadn’t had to pay the money for anything but regular maintenance. We’d just tried very hard to forget the tank was there. On top of it was the back yard, resplendent in everything my grandmother had planted, with a fountain in the middle of all, showing off. We played lawn darts and ran around with the family’s kids. It was great.
Then the city passed an ordinance, came to my door, sent letters and – bottom line – informed me that I’d be paying (how much??) for a sewer system and access to it. Did I have a choice? Was there any input here? Nope, the decision was made. I can’t say that I was sorry to see the septic tank go but it was galling that I’d had no say in the matter. So the sewer went in. It tore up the road and my beloved backyard for about two weeks. I learned later that was pretty quick, for a city construction project. They must have gotten money to spend elsewhere and so wanted to move on to that.
I lived with the sewer system quite happily, actually, for about two years until the worst happened. Something worse than all the years in which the septic tank had been sitting back there, getting periodically serviced, pumped out, and the odd sewage cleanup service done. The sewer water house backed up into my tub. As it was investigated by the first plumber I could find, it was probable that the garage up the street had been dumping grease in large amounts, straight down their toilets. Because I couldn’t prove anything I had no case against them but, thankfully, my homeowner’s insurance covered the sewage cleanup.
I was hopping. I approached the city wondering if I could pull any legal action against such irresponsible behavior. I was told to be grateful that the sewage cleanup wouldn’t put me out too much. So I went home and began sponging and bleaching.
I guess stuff happens. You know what I mean…