Another little tidbit I plucked from its chip bed to maybe reawaken with additional kilobytes some time soon.
Today I spent most of the morning pounding a two-foot iron stake halfway into the lawn in a vain attempt to locate the septic tank. It’s been three years, so it needs to be cleaned they say, with a family of four living here in a suburban paradise where on every half acre there stands a 4,000 square foot house with a three car garage that barely leaves room for a 1,000 gallon cement block septic tank. I must have pounded fifty holes in the little amount of Kentucky bluegrass allowed as a lawn between the decorator-designed English garden and the Chinese Meditation garden that is really only a rectangle of white rocks upon which Jenna, the kids and I are supposed to contemplate all sorts of life’s mysteries. I don’t know which hole it came out of, the first or the fiftieth, and it doesn’t really matter. At some point this morning, I drilled open a tunnel to hell and let something escape.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology