A Year-End Reflection: When Life Hands You Sh... Septic Problems
Jan 1
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As the year ticked away and I stared at my blank screen, I envisioned crafting a blog so profound it would stop readers mid-scroll. It would ooze inspiration, sprinkle hope, and maybe even bring a tear or two. Alas, the only thing oozing in my life was... well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
For weeks, I tried to channel my inner Hemingway. Nothing came. The cursor, blinking smugly: “YOU KNOW NOTHING.”
And that’s when life decided to hand me a steaming pile of material. Literally - but you gotta say it like Moira Rose from Schitts Creek.
On December 31st, while we were picking out party hats and planning countdown playlists, Hall Septic arrived to pump our tank. We live in an area notorious for failing septic systems, and with all the horror stories of neighbors facing catastrophic replacements, I figured routine maintenance would keep us in the clear. Every 3–4 years seemed reasonable.
Except this wasn’t routine.
Upon removing the lid, our friendly “pumper-outter” (a technical term, surely) stared down into the abyss and said, “Y’all got a problem.” He didn’t even need a flashlight; the tank was THAT full. I channeled Cousin Eddie from Christmas Vacation and exclaimed, “Shitter’s full!” because humor is my defense mechanism in moments of despair.
Turns out, our septic system wasn’t draining properly, and a missing T joint meant repairs were inevitable.
Enter the Usual Suspects
Despite the, um, crappy news, New Year’s Eve with The Usual Suspects was a blast. Mexican Bingo, laughter, toasts, and all-around shenanigans filled the night. The Usual Suspects are my six-pack of life. We’re all different, like those individual bottles of beer you can select to build your own pack -but together we’re magic—minus any actual crime sprees or police lineups.
This year, we’re planning a trip to the Kentucky Bourbon Trail, which I’m hoping involves fewer septic tank analogies and more sipping bourbon like classy adults. If you’ve been, drop some tips in the comments. Bonus points if wine is involved.
I rang in the new year not with resolutions but with a phone call to a repair guy whose name I got from multiple recommendations (yes, a full review will be submitted after work is complete). He showed up, assessed the situation, and made two discoveries:
There was no T joint.
The drain to the distribution box was clogged.
Great news: They could clear it and get us operational until more repairs could be done. Bad news: That involved digging. And boy, could these guys dig.
In 15 minutes flat, my backyard looked like an episode of CSI. If they ever need a side hustle, these guys could outpace any grave-digger around and likely get a body 6 feet under before it's even cold.
The kicker? Our distribution box might be under my greenhouse. Cue me, “Oh sh…”—you get it, the begin of meltdown had begun. Not my beloved greenhouse. SURELY, we could access this sh*t another way!??
What started as a $60 pump-out quickly ballooned into a potential multi-thousand-dollar repair. The silver lining? There’s a program through Mountain Castle Soil & Water that might help cover some costs. First thing tomorrow, I’m submitting our quote and crossing my fingers super hard.
In the meantime, we’re living life on septic system high alert. No laundry marathons, no hour-long showers, and paper plates for the win. Did you know the average family of four uses 400 gallons of water per day? With just two of us, we’re determined to stay well below that, if only to avoid another “oh sh…” moment.
My business coach, H. Faye always says, “Write what you know.” And now? I know shit. Literally. (yes, channel Moira again)
I know bleach is a necessary evil in septic warfare (come to find out it will NOT ruin your stinking situation down in the ground if used in moderation). I know septic systems are a financial black hole. And I know life has a sense of humor, even if it’s a bit crude.
So, no, this isn’t the life-altering, soul-stirring blog I dreamed of writing. It’s a story about an overflowing shitter and the unexpected expenses that followed. But if nothing else, maybe it serves as a reminder that when life gets messy—sometimes laugh-out-loud messy—you just have to roll with it.
Here’s to 2025: fewer septic surprises, more adventures with The Usual Suspects, and a well-functioning T joint. Cheers!
P.S. If you’ve got bourbon trail tips or septic system survival hacks, leave a comment. I’m all ears... and looking for some nose plugs or obnoxiously strong scented candles.
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Sorry to hear of your septic excitement. It’s a bit nutty. The joys of home ownership!
As for the bourbon trail; a lot depends on what you hope to accomplish. It would take a couple weeks minimum to see ‘everything’ properly throughout Kentucky. That said, regardless of what you do, leaving from here, you’ll pass near enough to Woodford Reserve to at least stop by. The scenic drive in and the lovely visitors center is low hanging fruit. It’s been a while but they used to have one of the better tours (the only one in which you’ll see three giant pot stills). And if you’re at Woodford, Castle and Key is ‘just down the road’ and another beautiful location but in a completely different way.
If time is limited, I would focus on the Bardstown area as it’s most densely packed with distilleries, bourbon history, and is easy to make your way around (no accidental toll bridges across the Ohio River as can happen in Louisville!). If you’re in Bardstown for breakfast, Mammy’s Kitchen is a no brainer (they use Jake’s sausage).
If you’re traveling on I64 between Louisville and Frankfort, Jeptha Creed is just off the interstate (you are familiar with their PawPaw brandy!)
And no trip is complete without stopping by the Plaudit Place Liquor Barn in Lexington (easy access from both I64 and I75).
Travel safe and good luck with the sh!tter!