The epic tragedy that is my septic tank continues.
If you ever entertained an idea of living in the country, I beg you to rethink it.
No sidewalks. Manic drivers who think they are at Nascar. Half-corpses of deer left on the side of the road. A move to have the town sewers extended which has been on the table since 2007. Give ’em another ten years and I’m sure it will pass.
I am trying to keep my lip a few inches above what feels like the entire contents of my septic system. Let’s call it swill, shall we? Which level of hell is it? Somewhere below the eternal winter one, although we experience that too.
No I’m not knocking upstate New York. I’m just having a difficult time. And in this, my favorite season. How I yearn to chase leaves and smell the woodsmoke and harvest pumpkins and look out my favorite thick woolly sweaters…
But perhaps my luck is changing. I just found a 4-leafed clover. Just looked down at the grass median by the school bus stop and there it was. I pressed it carefully between two pieces of paper and brought it home. And then four days later while walking the LF (Lucy Factor) up on the mountain, I looked down and there was another one.
Odds of finding a 4-leafed clover? 1 in 10,000.
Odds of finding two in less than a week? astronomical.
In this month where Saturn and Uranus are kicking my butt (and things are all round hard for late born Pisceans like myself) I could use another kindly cosmic power looking after me a bit.
Put all my faith in two plant specimens? You betcha! Cause I’m just a wee bit crazy these days.
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