No, I’m not tired. No, I wasn’t stricken with some form of Montezuma’s Revenge from eating bagged lettuce. I’m speaking literally about Sarah. Sarah, my septic tank, who erupted with fury last week in three toilets, five sinks, two showers, and one bath tub!

Her eruption began surreptitiously, when Ginger, the gal that lives in my casita, reported her toilet wasn’t working.

“Okay, just use the powder room one.”

She opened the door to the powder room and water trickled across the main hallway. “Your toilet is leaking.”

No way, I thought, as I had just had it resealed several months ago. But I looked, and indeed it was. “Use the one upstairs or in my master.” Thankfully, she elected to go upstairs.

“Sue, don’t you find it odd that two toilets in two separate buildings aren’t working?”

“Probably just a coincidence.” Ye gods! What a stupid thing to say, as I don’t believe in them. “I’ll call a guy that can help figure out what’s wrong.”

“I’d call a plumber.” Ginger added.

“And pay $100 an hour for him to tell me to throw some Drano down the toilet? Hell, no.”

My guy came, poured some strong chemical down the casita toilet and plunged it over and over, until the shower was filled with filthy, foul-smelling water. He and Ginger returned to my house and announced I needed a plumber. “Do you want me to look at the toilet in here, Sue?” he asked as he opened the door and water rushed out.

Ginger walked into the Master bath, and yelled, “You all better come in here.”

I came. I looked. I gagged. I left. I immediately called Roto Rooter. Within five hours all of the drains were functional, but an additional problem required three more days of work in intermittent torrential rain and a ten-thousand dollar bill. In addition, part of the lawn needs reseeded and the sidewalk pavers need replaced. I certainly hope Miss Sarah, the septic tank, is done spewing in my lifetime. I can ill afford another sh$&ty episode.