@360love announced that they would post your Valentine Tweets today and tomorrow. So here’s what I had to say first thing this morning.
I guess it wasn’t romantic enough because it’s not showing up on their web site. According to my calculations, my tweet should be appearing right about here in between @RichardAZ and @bobgarrett.
Now I realize that my tweet may not have seemed romantic. Even my friend Harris once asked if I had gotten married or hired a handyman!
But wait until you hear the whole story – all of the stuff that doesn’t fit in 140 characters.
Terry insisted on digging down to the septic tank clean out to save us the $50 per hour to have Yount Sewer do it. After digging four holes through rock, clay and roots yesterday, he called Yount who assured him that they could find it and would give us a break if Terry wanted to help dig.
Well, two more holes later this morning and still no sign of the cleanout. Terry sent them on their way, called the Health Department to secure a map of the location of the tank and discovered that it was not at all in the place any of them had expected.
But even that was not enough to actually get to the clean-out so the sewer company suggested we rent a back hoe.
A back hoe!!!
Instead, my dear husband (wanting to save me money) drove to Temple to get a metal detector that would register when he hovered over the re bar reinforcement in the lid frame and clean out handle.
My dad offered to share the cost since he was due so my dear husband took it to my parents and dug up their septic tank before returning to the field of holes in our own backyard.
Finally 10 hours after he began digging, the two cleanouts are liberated. Now we wait until we can get back on the septic service dude’s calendar.
Terry is beat.
And he’s tired.
And he needs food, and love, and a funny movie.
Perhaps even a massage.
And I’ll tend to him as he tended to our home today.
Of all of the symbols of Valentine’s Day – flowers, candy, fancy dinners and champagne – the most un-Valentine’s-Day-like thing would have to be sewage.
But I look at this hand-dug hole in my backyard …
…and I think about the the aching back that did what needed to be done and the blisters that will surely be tender tomorrow.
Our love began with a flurry of romantic rendezvous in Chicago and New York. The grandeur of the opera palaces and the intimacy of romantic dinners were intoxicating. And I treasure those memories of a whirlwind romance that played out at a dizzying speed in dazzling environments.
But what I believe in my heart, is that sometimes love is most fully expressed when elusive septic tanks are conquered.
This is how I know that our love is as tough and rock solid as the Central Texas clay and bedrock in our backyard.
And now, my husband needs me. Or at least I owe him my attention.
A
