The Joys of a Septic Tank

In our house it’s quite a regular occurrence that we might have a slow draining sink or a blocked toilet, and not because our shits are any bigger than anyone else’s but mainly because we live out in the sticks and have a revolting septic tank.

Sidenote: For anyone unsure of what a septic tank is, it is essentially a massive tank buried in the garden that all household water drains into, including poo’s and wee’s.  These are generally used when the water mains drainage system is too far away from the house to connect into. They require regular emptying but when working properly should hold the dumps in the tank and filter the liquid out into a soak away where the water should theoretically soak into the ground.  

 After further probing  as to why these sorts of problems happen to us so frequently we looked into our septic tank situation and became aware that it must have been in residence for approximately 60 years.  Now I’m no waste drainage expert but that doesn’t sound too healthy and you don’t have to be a genius to work out it probably needs a bit of upgrading. 

 What is not widely known is that you need approximately 2 million pounds to do it.  Okay that might be a small exaggeration but we definitely wouldn’t get much change from 15K, so it may as well have been 2 million.  It’s on the top of the ‘to do’ list but until then Husband is running a very tight ship where water is concerned.  Constantly policing the length of showers we have, the amount of washes I do which is horrendous because washing clothes is the only element of housework I actually enjoy, relish even, so normally I attempt to launder everything in the house every day, twice.  I’ve been given strict instructions the dishwasher is off limits because its not water efficient enough and when I pull a face or throw a toddler tantrum at having to wash up he gleefully reminds me that the consequences of expelling too much water into the tank at once will leave us with backed up pipes and the delight of our own turds gurgling back up the plughole. 

 Okay Husband, point taken.

This means that for the foreseeable future our daily water drainage allowance will be roughly equivalent to that of an egg cup. We are obliged to wear the same clothes for a fortnight as I’ve been told to only do 1 wash per week (but will possibly do a few more on the sly and then will deny everything if questioned) and frankly they’re so stiff with God knows what they’re about to get up and walk off our bodies. It’s also not the most attractive feature that the smell from the toilet is making everyone gag due to the ‘If it’s yellow let it mellow and if it’s brown flush it down’ rule that no one pays any attention to.

Living the Dream