No Pay, No Poop

I have tried to avoid political topics on this blog.  My reason for this is purely selfish.  If I were to offend a reader with my political views they may never come back to this blog.  If people don’t come to my blog they will not click on any of the advertisements (those things to the right that google doesn’t want me to point out, even though the ads are frequently humorous and contradictory to my writings).  If people don’t click on my advertisers’ ads I cannot make any money.  If I cannot make any money my children will die from hunger.  If my children die from hunger I will be very sad and very lonely until my body finished consuming all of my excessive body fat and then I too would die.

So I have made a business/personal/self-preservation sort of decision to avoid political commentary.  “Leave the serious offending to others better versed in the intricacies of politics than I,” say I. If I were to offend I would only hope that it happen unintentionally and through less volatile subject matter.  For instance, using a tasteless word such as ‘poop’ in this blog could be found offensive by some.   It's a mildly comical word, but potentially offensive regardless of innocent intentions.

That said, I feel compelled to speak out about a piece of legislation that was passed by our state’s legislature a couple of years ago.  This piece of – uh -- legislation deals with poop.  So I find myself in the uncomfortable position of writing a post about politics and poop.  The potential for offense and all of its ill effects runs quite deep with this post.  Yet there are some times when one must take a bold stand without reservation, choosing to flinch not if the poop hits the fan.

This new law now requires all owners of septic systems to have their systems pumped and inspected every three years.  Now I enjoy seeing a honey truck roll down the road as much as the next guy.  I can’t help but smile in a schoolboy sort of way whenever I see one.  But I feel uneasy having my state government tell me how often I need to see one roll down my driveway.

The program started from an E.P.A. (Environmental Protection Agency) study focused on rural septic systems and their impact on wells and ground water.  The study concluded that many septic systems across the country are either functioning improperly or needing to be replaced altogether.  The result of these system failures is that rural drinking water, as well as lakes, rivers and streams are becoming contaminated by human poop.

I find this shocking.  Nauseating.  Absolutely intolerable.  I am in total agreement to right this horrible wrong and am greatly concerned if our septic system is part of the problem.  The welfare of our environment is extremely important to me as it is to my family.

I would feel tremendous guilt and shame if I knew that some of my poop made a duck sick.  And I would be absolutely mortified if some of our poop showed up in a downstream neighbor’s glass of ice water.  How downright embarrassing for them as well if they happened to be entertaining dinner guests.

Fines are issued to those who choose a path of noncompliance of the new law.  But how could I not comply?  The intention and ultimate goal of the law are both very good and important things.  However it’s roots were not, and that is what has caused the rumbling within me.

I got the scoop on the poop from someone in the government who will remain nameless.  I was told through this source that the plumber’s union came across the original EPA study.  As the housing market was beginning to take a plunge and plumbing jobs no longer flowed, the union hired lobbyists to educate state legislators about the study.

It was not only union plumbers, but plumbing supply companies, plumbing contractors, etc., that also stood to benefit financially from a law that would require the building of new septic systems.  So they jumped into the mire and hired lobbyists as well.

Pretty soon politicians were shoveled all kinds of things about poop.  Being downright familiar with poop shoveling, the politicians got their hands dirty.  They pledged to flush privacy rights of landowners down the drain for the sake of the environment.  After a great deal of paperwork, the new law was passed and county governments were given the task of sniffing out faulty poop systems.

I have never, ever, subscribed to the philosophy that the end justifies the means.  In fact I believe that the means are not just equally, but in some cases even more important than the end.  Politicians seem to be just fine with the former concept.  If big money tramples on the little peoples but they (politicians) smell good in the end, so be it.

So I drug my feet for a number of months. “This’ll show ‘em,” I thought to myself.  “I’ll flush their toilet.”  In retrospect it was a rather weak, passive/aggressive protest.

I must also admit that I feared that our system would not pass inspection.  While not knowing a lot about septic systems, what I did know is that they cost a lot.  After waiting until we were three months out from the first fine, I finally called for a honey truck.

The arrival of the big truck driven by a big man with a really big hose turned out to be a weird sort of “family time.”  We gathered around the hole in the ground like some folks gather around a Christmas tree on Christmas morning.  Like wide-eyed children filled with anticipation and wonder, fixated on the treasures beneath the tree that longed to be freed from their decorative wrappings, we too wondered what we might see when the big man lifted the boards that covered the tank.

What we saw was not what any one of us was expecting.  The top of the tank was covered with a thick, off-white foam.  There was also far less of a smell than one would imagine.  Not that it smelled good, it just wasn’t overwhelming.

We peered into the hole and watched as foam disappeared into the hose and revealed a brown liquid underneath, more like what we had originally expected.  Slowly the level dropped and we were hooked.  We were mesmerized, like standing in front of a front-loading washing machine at the laundramat watching the clothes rise and then disappear into the suds.

Eventually the big man reached the bottom of the tank and slowly shook his head.  Our septic system, as we had fearfully suspected, did not pass.  It was an old metal tank and he showed us, using the hose as a pointer, where holes were located in its bottom.

There was no more hiding.  No more passive protests.  No more denial.  Regardless of how the law came about we needed to do the right thing and invest in a new septic system.

And so I pay.  And I pay.  And I pay.  $275 to the State of Wisconsin to approve plans that I paid a plumber $500 to draw up (which probably took all of ten minutes with his plumbing design software).  I’ve paid the county for the septic system permit, for various other permits, and for permits that allow me to have all of those permits.  I’ve shelled out over $2000 since we started this project last fall, and to date we haven’t even broken ground.

When you boil it all down I guess it’s the ridiculous amount of money for and number of permits required to do the right thing that eats at me.  In these difficult economic times (I would use the word ‘recession’ but my government has told me that the recession is over) it feels as if we have become our state and county’s economic stimulus fund.

But it’s all right.  I have devised a plan of revenge.

After committing to the septic system project I began pondering about how one might get by without a toilet in this day and age.  Building a two-seater behind the house was out of the question.  That would simply duplicate the problem that already exists.  Composting toilets are a possibility, but I think they’re creepy.

I then settled on a new plan that I named, “Visit a Different Neighbor Each Day.”  In short, we would slyly invite ourselves over to an unsuspecting neighbor’s home for tea.  Once at our neighbor’s home (obviously one that does not live downstream from our septic system) the lead person (pre-designated in the planning meeting) would ask if they might use the bathroom.  That person, concealing an extra roll of TP and a mini can of bathroom spray, would complete their task, hide the TP and spray in a predetermined location, and make their way back to the tea party.

Once that person returned, the next pre-designated person would quietly count to 100 and then discretely ask if they might use the bathroom.  This pattern would continue until the final family member had his or her turn.  That person would have the additional responsibility of recovering the extra TP and mini can of bathroom spray.

In my mind the biggest problem with this plan is that it targets our neighbors rather than our state government.  After discussing this with my wife, we developed a different plan of attack.

We launch this operation with the purchase an annual state park admission sticker.  Each day thereafter we will run the family up to Governor Dodge State Park, a mere15 minutes from our home.  We will use their facilities and save the wear and tear on our new system as well as decrease our own water and TP costs.  Additionally, beginning in April and running through October we will take our daily showers at the park using as much of the State’s hot water as we possibly can.  Who knows?  We may even bathe our dogs.

The mission and its objective are two-fold:  run up the state’s bills like they’ve run up ours and reduce the use of our new system.  I realize it will take a long while to settle the score financially, but I’m also certain the showers and the, uh, well, you know, will be the most satisfying that I’ve ever had.