Last night my landlord came back to fill the holes he and the septic guy had dug Saturday. I didnít offer to help, except that if it had got any darker before he finished, I would have had to turn the light on for him. He left some pipe ends sticking up out of the ground, but I think heís finished now, so I can relax. Nobody, not even anyone in my family, drops in on me without calling first, except the landlord.
And now, after months (years, really) of things not working exactly right, everything is finally the way itís supposed to be. I can stop getting myself all worked up over a toilet that wonít flush, or a tub that wonít drain. Still, I canít yet bring myself to flush and walk away. I have to watch the swirling, to make sure it all goes down. I donít have the confidence yet, and itís too much of a habit, but so far, so good.
Actually, the toilet could work a little better. The insides are rusting out, but the last thing the landlord told me last night was that when he gets a chance heís going to replace it. No, Iím not holding my breath, or worrying about him dropping by unannounced. Iíll believe it when I see it, but itís a nice thought.