Nothing lasts forever except for Herpes and taxes so I truly wasn’t surprised when the sump pump went out at Promises.
We’ve had record rains here in this spring; drowning old records by two inches or more. Promises has done its best to compete. I found out the hard way. I wandered up to relax a little. Needing to open up the house, I descended the scariest basement steps known to man. They are wooden, warped, muddy and remind me that I am due for a horror story soon. My friend has pointed out that Kathy Bates would find it “charming”. With its bilco doors, it reminds me of a 1950’s bomb shelter complete with musty walls, metal cupboards and old area rugs. Bangin place for a party if you are a member of the undead. There is a mini fridge (that worked at one time) down there and a few tools. Trust me when I tell you we won’t be worried about redecorating anytime soon. I kind of like the Adam’s family creepy look. (snap*snap)
I could feel the rush of water and smell the beginnings of must. CRAP! I checked the crock and sure enough the little engine that should ….could NOT. It was floating helplessly at the bottom like a dead minnow.
Looking at me, you would instantly think I could rip out plumbing, re-pipe it in only a matter of moments…hahahhaha I crack me up. I went to the hardware store and began to research. I found a little doo-dad that looked like my thing-a-ma-jig and bought some whatcha-callits. I was good to go and set to work. Right on the box printed in forty different languages was the assurance it was easy to install. I simply needed some... uhhhh...doo-dads and some whatcha-callits. Good. I felt confident. I got out my hack saw, philips head screw driver (and my flat head-just in case) and spread out all over my porch to build a functioning sump pump. If you’ve been through this, you know that truly, it is a matter of a couple of screws, some hosing, a break valve with some clamps; MAYBE some PVC piping, but not a lot. (Didn’t think I’d come out with all THAT didja? Ha. The lingo came with my tool belt. I’m in the tool of the month club …April was a set of drill bits. Exciting I know. Don’t be jealous. It doesn’t look good on you)
I rolled up my bibbi-overalls and waded in. The water was not deep, just enough to make my shoes squeak. I squatted down and began to operate. I pulled the life line of the dead one and discovered that we had been lucky. This thing was incredibly old and covered with sediment. I’m sure the previous owners never touched it. Of course not. It was dirty. I pulled the hosing off, and replaced all with shiny new ones. I fastened the seatbelts and stepped up to the plug. Now, it’s just a thing I have; a tiny fear that if I’m standing in water, I’m wet and I go to plug something in….there might be more than a whiff of ozone and a few sparks. I was alone and so the thought of not being discovered for decades crossed my mind:
“EWWW what IS that?”
“I don’t know…looks like a ….plumber? See the tool belt and pipes?”
“Hmmmm Wonder what happened?”
“Maybe there was electricity and water and…bzzzZAP. Smells kinda crunchy down here dontcha think?”
“Yeah. Let’s close the doors and run away.”
“I’m with you.”
But this did not happen. In fact, nothing happened. I said a few choice words along the lines of “Firetruck” and “Kiss my lily white ass” and began demanding that the newest resident of the bomb shelter needed to begin fitting in with all the OTHER working appliances if he wanted to stay around.
Be careful what you ask for because you just might get it.
There was a tiny click but my face lit up like I’d won the lottery….then there was a WHOOOOOSH and the sound of the thickest milkshake in the world being sucked through a bendy straw. “THIIIRRRRRLP-SSSSSLUUUURP!” The water began to disappear, sort of. I had failed to see that the discharge pipe had a v-split in it. I was sucking it up and pumping right back into the crock as fast as the little ½ HP could go. DAMMIT! I was getting hosed down big time. I yanked the plug and stood there covered in frigid muddy water. FABULOUS.
I knelt down and began to tinker. I capped what I had to, putting everyone back together. Like Frankenstein, I hesitated at the point of contact, the moment of truth, said a little prayer and replugged. My insane Dairy Queen milkshake maker roared to life; water disappeared for good. I do confess that I laughed like crazy and did the bull dance. It was a accompanied by a hearty “Weee HOOO!” Still squealing and grinning, I dashed up the steps, around the porch, down the yard to where it spits out. Sure enough, I’d done it.
I cleaned up my toys and put them away. Sitting in front of my bon fire that evening, I kicked at a stone in my fire pit. I began considering a little masonry. Next month’s tool? Chisels.
I hope you had a good day. Thanks for stopping here to visit.
