For several weeks now my husband has been working on a project to fix the drainage problems with our sump pump line. It was backed up and gushing water along the foundation of the house. The assumed culprit is tree roots, since the first owner of the house planted a row of maple trees DIRECTLY ON TOP OF THE LINE. If he still lived here he could be cursing himself out right now. But don't worry, guy, we're doing it for you!
The easiest fix is to re-route around the trees. My do-it-yourselfer husband began by renting a trencher, then laborously adding a slope to the line by hand with a post hole digger. Since he can only work on it during weekends, it's become a lengthy project. And an obsessive one. All other chores must wait until The Trench Project is complete. There were unforeseen problems and obstacles, and completing The Trench has been like withdrawing from Afghanistan, with reported progress that's hard to believe because the thing is still there.
The latest news flash from The Trench is that MUCH progess has been made and the end is in sight. (If that sounds familiar it's because you've heard it from the White House for the past ten years. I'm trying not to dwell on that ten year part.) But water is beginning to drain downhill toward the pasture - our version of victory. Everyone will soon be happy, except, of course, for residents of The Trench. The thing has been there so long that frogs have moved in.
You know what this means, don't you? Now I have to be concerned that all these little lives are safely removed before The Trench is filled in. I can see it now - refilling will be a slow, careful job with me adding shovelfuls of dirt, making sure the frogs jump out of the way, as my husband walks away shaking his head.
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