THIS OLD FARMHOUSE - Segment 3 (Scroll down for earlier segments)



     The Great Spring Backup was definitely unsuitable for children.  Frankly, I thought it was unsuitable for anyone.  Every time I saw someone wearing a T-shirt that said “No Fear,” I knew they had never heard the sound of a gurgling toilet.  A gurgling toilet is a reason for fear, along with thoughts of panic because what’s gone down will be returning soon.  I learned to be ready.  When I heard a loud gurgling, it meant I had an angry toilet.  I immediately sent out a PDS…Plumber’s Distress Signal.  That involved dancing around the septic tank in hip waders, waving a plunger, and making a gurgling sound.  

     My wife said she didn’t know which was more distressing; a backed-up septic tank or my gurgling.

     I became known as the Plunger Warrior from the Lost Tribe of the Backed-Up Septic Tank.  Actually, the tribe wasn't lost.  They deserted me.  Without help, I took matters into my own hands.  I was fierce, even sacrificing a toilet bowl, hoping to appease the god of the drain field.  He just scoffed in mock laughter.

    The late and delightful Erma Bombeck once wrote a book entitled The Grass Is Always Greener over the Septic Tank.  I agree whole-heartedly if the grass hasn’t been dug up.  I don’t think I ever saw grass over our septic tank.

    Not long after the Great Spring Backup, I had my first opportunity to expand my woodshop skills since my days as a master sander in high school.  I thought of the perfect project: remodeling the bathroom.  I had watched enough home improvement programs on renovation to mistakenly think I could renovate a bathroom.   I should have known never to take on a project of this magnitude when my wife was perfectly capable of doing it herself.  Nevertheless, I pushed ahead, completely ignoring her pleas for me to seek help.  “I know a good counselor,” she said, “who’s dealt with many husbands who have attempted bathroom remodels.”

     “This is just something I have to do,” I answered.

     “Alright,” she went on, “but don’t forget the time you tried removing a hangnail with a table saw.”    

     “That program on bathroom renovations has shown me everything I need to know about a remodel,” I said.

     “Didn’t they also say, ‘Don’t try this at home?’” she continued. 

     Ignoring logic, common sense and history, I refused to give up on my project.  I knew if I quit it would be a blow to my self-image as Mr. Fix-it.   

     Although there is no reason for remodeling a bathroom, other than strengthening the ties that bind (specifically, a rope around the neck), it did give me time to myself because the rest of the family had moved, citing the wisdom of my former woodshop teacher, who told every student to clear out if I picked up anything other than sandpaper. 

     During my remodel, I learned there is something a man should never do: NEVER tell your wife when you’re starting a project.  She will instantly set a due date in her mind, and if it’s not done by the due date, a change of address may be necessary, with no forwarding address.  Certainly you should never suggest another project, unless you have backup protection.  You see, most wives forget to take into account your time with the boys, football, hunting, fishing, and just plain laziness.  You’d think they’d be more understanding than that.    

     When I decided to remodel our bathroom, I made the mistake of telling Connie. 


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