Half Nekkid Hoochie Mamas

Ya know, I try to be positive. I do. Then I have days like today when I just can't muster the emotional strength to even try.

As most of you have been reading, we've had an ongoing problem with our plumbing. Our sewer line has never worked right for long, but for the past year, everytime it rains, we get crap backing up into the bathtubs whenever we try to run the dishwasher or the clothes washer.

It's gross ya'll.

Ma calls the town, the town says it's not their problem then we pay $300 a pop for the Rooter people to come out with the super pooper cleaner outer to clear the line. We've had to have it cleaned out twice in the past year, the last time was just a couple of months ago and now we're all backed up again.

Ma has it stuck in her head that we need the sewage line replaced. I don't remember if the last Rooter guy told her that or if she just decided that was what was wrong. We've been calling people and asking everyone for so long, that it's all one big brown blur.

We've been harrassing the guy who put in our hot water heater for months. He told T.A. or her boss or her boss' boss.. some damn body.. that he'd fix our sewer line if we could get someone with a backhoe to dig it up, which we did, then he disappeared again.

I don't ask for much in life, but I'd like to be able to flush my damned toilet or use that shiny new washer sitting in the laundry room.

I'm gettin' kinda uppity about the whole mess.

So finally, T.A.'s boss, who was probably tired of hearing us gripe about it, found "a guy" who would do it. T.A. texted me right before lunch to tell me he'd be at the house around 12.

I'm not going to go into how I feel about the people in my house scheduling every Bubba, Junior and Joe Bob to show up on my lunch hour or how I like to .. you know.. eat my damned lunch during my lunch hour, because I'm trying to learn to let things go.

Anywho...

I came home for lunch, tossed a frozen chicken tatta in the frying pan and half a bag of cauliflower, carrots and some other assorted cattle fodder in the microwave while I waited for Floyd or Elmer or whoever was coming. It wasn't long before he showed up with two skilled assistants following close behind. Mr. Fixit Guy was about 6'5" with the bulk to match. He spoke with a slow drawl and seemed kind, the type that would go out of his way to give anyone a hand. I explained the problem to him as best I could and he said, "Tell ya what. How about I grab a shovel and dig 'er up and we'll see what'sa goin' on?"

As he turned to retrieve the shovel from his truck, I went back inside to check on lunch. One side of the chicken tatta was burned to a crisp, the other side was still raw.

Dammit.

I glanced out of the kitchen window as I pried the crispy fowl from the pan in an effort to flip it over, just as the three people surrounding my sewage pipe let out a collective "Whoa!" and moved quickly away.

Surely they didn't find a snake. It's supposed to snow tomorrow.

I went to the door to see what everyone was looking at just as Mr. Fixit Guy motioned for me to come outside. He gestured towards the yard where I saw the giant pool of.. well.. muck.. crap.. raw sewage.

Lunch was gonna be just feckin' yummy.

"Have you called the town about this? Cuz if you've had this line cleared, it don't make no sense for it to be boilin' up over here unless the problem is in the town's line," he explained. I told him how many times we'd called and how they kept saying it wasn't their issue.

One of the other guys spoke up, who actually turned out to be a very manly woman, "If I was you, I'd call them one more time. If they don't come fix it, you call the health inspector and tell them you've got raw sewage coming up in your yard and by gawd, someone will do something."

I had to admit, calling the health department hadn't occured to me and it did sound like a good idea. It was about that time that I heard the dogs barking and turned to see Ma approaching the screen door.

With no pants.

Waving a $20 dollar bill.

The nice Mr. Fixit was trying hard not to notice the crazy looking lady with no pants and four teeth waving money.

"Um.. could you excuse me for just a second? Kay thanks!" I said as I shooed the dogs back inside and gave Ma that "count-your-blessings-that-there-are-witnesses" look, screeching through clenched teeth, "Where the hell are your pants???"

"What do they want to know?" she asked.

"They don't want to know anything, WHERE ARE YOUR PANTS???" I answered.

"I don't HAVE any clean pants because I can't WASH any CLOTHES."

"Well I would THINK it would be better to put SOMETHING on rather than run around with your big ol' BUTT CHEEKS hanging out for GOD AND EVERYBODY to SEE! And what's this $20 for?"

"Oh, on your way home tonight, can you pick me up some Tylenol Sinus?"

*blink*

"Umm sure."

I scurried back outside, talked to Mr. Fixit some more, who assured me that he'd be happy to come back out if we needed him, but he didn't want to take our money to do something that he didn't think would fix the problem. I waved goodbye as he drove off. It took a second for me to realize that the funky odor I was smelling wasn't from the above ground cesspool we had goin' on, but the aroma of charred chicken flesh. I ran inside to rescue what was left of my lunch, inhaling it in the ten minutes I had left of my break before heading back to the Asylum.

I passed Mr. Fixit and his crew chewing the fat outside the hardware store, probably telling the townsfolk about all the crap that came flowing up out of my yard. Or the snaggle toothed hoochie mama.

It's a good thing it was noggin' doc day huh?

Tomorrow is another day. That's a good thing, right?