Acting as one's own agent, realtor, errand boy, etc., in the sale of a house has taught me several things.  One of them is that the well and septic inspector won't pass your property unless your tank has been pumped within the past three years.  Thankfully, he notified me of this in advance, when I hired him. 

For those city folk among you who don't know what I'm writing about, I will explain.  When one lives far enough out into the "country," there is no piped in city water or sewage disposal drain.  The individual homeowner is responsible for maintaining their own miniature sewage processing system.  Water is pumped into a pressure vessel in the basement from an aquifer (in my case about 400 feet down.)  It is then cleaned of the larger bits of sediment by passing through a "whole house filter."  Water pressure is maintained by keeping the water in the pressure vessel pushing against air pressure just short of blowing up the whole device.  From there on, cold water filtered to that point only, is routed to outside hose faucets and to the cold water outlets in the kitchen.  From that point on, mineral laden water is "softened" by passing through a water softener where it is treated chemically with salt to remove the rest of the minerals.  This makes bathing and the like a much more pleasant experience.  After it is softened, it passes through the water heater to provide the hot water for the home.

OK.  We have the water in the house.  When we're done with it, it has to go somewhere.  That somewhere is into the septic wastewater system.  All water from washing machines, garbage disposals, sinks, bathtubs, and toilets, flows into the septic tank.  The tank allows the solid waste to settle to the bottom of one part of the tank while the liquid waste flows out into the septic field.  This field is a series of three or four lines of tile buried underground in the yard where it leaches the liquid waste into the soil.  Actually, it is a rather "green" system which makes use of virtually everything that passes through it.  One can discern the truth of this by noting the lines of crabgrass that grow above each of the tile runs.

I was unaware that the septic tank required regular pumping.  When I read about the subject, it appears that tanks should have the sludge waste pumped out at regular intervals.  By Googling the subject, I found that definitions of "regular" varied between two and seven years.  This tank had far passed "regular" even if one multiplied the two numbers above.  I naively believed that one just waited until it didn't work very well and then had it pumped.  I was wrong (even though it functioned perfectly during the entire time my family had occupied the house.)

The sludge was removed by a filthy tank truck with an extremely powerful vacuum pump through a heavy-duty, quite contaminated hose.  Being careful not to touch the sanitary technician, I handed him a check for $200.00 and bid him adieu. 

And now you know the muse for the haiku in the previous post.  It is written from the "sludge's" point of view.  I seriously doubt that anyone has written a poem of any form about the cleaning of a septic tank until now.  No rotten cyber-tomatoes will be thrown at the author, please.  We must maintain a facade of decorum.

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2007, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

"The grass is always greener over the septic tank." - Erma Bombeck

I have been packing and pitching quite enough for one day.  I'm going to do something strange(r than usual.)  I will publish yet another haiku and any visitor is welcome to guess its meaning.  I will reveal what I had in mind when I wrote it in the near future.  I state it in that way because haiku are so short they are open to multiple interpretations.  Quite possibly one of your interpretations will be better than mine.

Sudden Sunshine

Sudden sunshine strikes

Stunned, it lies still in its stench

Slowly sucked away

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2007, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

"Always remember that you're unique, just like everyone else." - Author Unknown

Organization

Possessions and memories

Safely locked away

_

Pictures of Annie

Boomer’s ashes in a can

Packed, ready to move

_

Box of Gone fuller

Never too heavy to lift

Full becomes empty

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2007, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

So what did I do all night?  I stayed awake dithering about whether all the house sale plans would continue to go as well as they have so far.  I thought I could do this by myself with the services of an attorney, as long as he told me exactly what to do and held my hand if I whined too much. 

So far I have gotten the contract signed, provided the title materials and old plat of survey, gotten the earnest money deposited into a trust account, obtained a release letter from the homeowners association, dragged damaged furniture and other possessions out to be recycled or to become landfill, given my offspring fair warning (several times) about getting their own stuff and family antiques out before the closing date, had the septic system checked and pumped out, (now there's a job I certainly would not like) and had the buyer over so that he could take measurements of all the rooms to know how much wood flooring, paint, drywall, etc., he would need.  I wanted to play with his laser measurement device but was too embarrassed to ask.  He is still grinning about the bargain that was struck and telling me how happy his wife is, so that makes at least three of us that are satisfied.  He was quite pleased when I offered him the bedroom suite and instantly took me up on the offer. 

There are several bits of furniture like that which, even though they are quite nice, would cost more to store and finally sell than they would just to leave where they are.  Besides the paint and fence post tools I am leaving, he will also get a huge dry bar and matching entertainment center.  Why the generosity with these two pieces?  Same as the bedroom suite.  They would cost more to move and store than I would ever be able to sell them for and, as an added bonus, I now do not have to figure out what to do with all the glassware that is spread around the kitchen counters and cabinets.  Any bar needs glasses, right?  And walls need lots of paint.  And the driveway needs 20 gallons of sealer.  And the laundry room will need the shelving and trim materials I had purchased some while ago for it.  And the deck needs its furniture.  And..........

Early next week I have to have the well and water tested.  The pump must be capable of delivering five gallons per minutes to "pass."  Given the recent flood that started this great adventure, I don't think that will be a problem.  The two major things I have left to do after that is to get my mortgage company and my home equity line to give me exact payout amounts as of September 14 for the closing.  There are a few minor things I am not clear on, but that is why one pays Bob an exorbitant amount to do lawyer things. 

A few minor arrangements that I have not yet begun need to be completed.  Finding a place to live, for one.  I do not believe that the US Post Office will accept "Green Chevrolet Cavalier, Parking Space for G & L Storage, Geneva, IL," as a forwarding address.  I'm glad I kept all my old backpacking equipment.  It may come in handy for a short while.  I could even take along some of the fence posts I removed for a campfire.  Probably not, though; I wouldn't want to scorch a cat.

And so it goes.

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2007, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

"Not only was ... (Doc) ... having a nervous breakdown, but ... (he) ... was having a tough time mentally too."  Simon Bates

Drat!  They got one past me again.  I had seen reference to this new Live feature in the recent past and now it's here.  Once again, the Live Team did not seek my input or permission.  There are a number of other free online storage spaces, some with nearly three GB of space, but the Live Team has integrated a storage space into the Spaces Live program and I almost didn't notice it.

On the first "What's New," screen that one encounters on the way into their space, a tiny new icon has appeared in the group at the upper right corner of the page.  It is labeled "Share files."  Share files?  That didn't sound familiar so of course I had to click the icon.  This action takes one down the rabbit hole to a part of spaces I didn't know existed yet.  One can upload up to 500 MB of Documents, Pictures, Music, and Videos.  While 0.5 GB is not a great amount of storage space for music or videos, I suspect there will soon be a closer connection to Spaces such that one can integrate stored material into their Space, but that feature is not there directly yet and I really don't know if it will be.

Currently, one may set the viewing or listening permissions of their uploads to Personal Folders (Just for you,) Shared Folders (to share with friends,) or Public Folders (which anyone may view.)  I just played with it a bit and left a document and some pictures open to public view.  The module should appear just above this post on this Space, although one may either hide it or place it in different positions on the page as one can with other modules.  The only bug I noticed was the tendency to show the picture of my Model A Ford as a mountain and river until it was clicked upon while showing all the others quite nicely.  I have no idea why it does that.  Maybe it just doesn't like hot rods.

I won't encourage any of you to potentially disrupt your spaces, but that little "Share files" icon is quite compelling, once you see it.  I believe that one can safely back out of the process gracefully, long enough to read the instructions at least, if you feel like you're in over your head.  I suppose you will know if I was successful if you are able to read this and access the document and pictures I have set to be viewed by anyone.  If you don't see this post or the module above it, I screwed up and just never mind.

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2007, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

"I wonder sometimes if manufacturers of foolproof items keep a fool or two ... (around) ...to test things." - Alan Coren

As arrangements proceed on selling the house there are so many loose ends that I can't concentrate for quite long enough on any to complete any of them.  And the voices are getting more insistent, louder, and are commanding mutually exclusive behaviors!

"What do you mean I have to have the septic tank pumped?  The sale was 'as-is,' complete with everything in its current condition.  I think that includes the sh**! ... No?  OK, What's his number?"

"And if I store my stuff in a pod there's no way to get at it to sell it a few pieces at a time?"

"It doesn't matter that I have the dorm refrigerator door duct-taped closed.  It wouldn't stay closed on its own and I'm not keeping it anyway."

"Repeat that slowly and clearly, please.  It will cost HOW MUCH to rent a couple guys to load and unload the truck?"

"Why can't I have a garage sale in your parking lot?  You want to be paid, don't you?"

"I won't be needing all the glass barware.  I'll just throw it all at the fireplace!  No.  Wait!  I'll leave the huge dry bar and TV cabinets (which I can't budge alone, anyway) for the new owners.  Complete with glassware and possibly with the older TV.  And a post puller jack and a post hole digger!"  Doc likes being able to be generous and devious at the same time.  I think I'm getting into the right mind set now.  And it takes care of about 17 gallons of paint, also.  Perhaps many more things.  Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha.

I'm not certain that I can afford this level of accommodation, but if it has a cable Internet connection ...  

"Really, Bob?  You have the earnest money?  And they gave me the extra two weeks to move out?  Hell yes, I'll be in to sign the papers!"  Closing will be on September 14 and I have little idea how events will play out over the next month.  Stay tuned for frequent meltdowns.  I don't know what I'm doing.  With every other house "I" have bought or sold, a spouse has told me to "sign that, rent that, move that," and eventually I was moved and the trauma was done.  It's not working that way this time.

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2007, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

"They called me mad, and I called them mad, and damn them, they outvoted me." - Nathaniel Lee

I am getting way too far into being frugal with my computer peripherals.  More specifically, with a Hewlett Packard USB wireless optical wheelmouse.  To be even more specific, the third in a series of exactly the same make and model of the mice.  I am seriously beginning to wonder why, but I really like the little critters.  They are perfectly sized, Stinky the Cat has no "mouse tail" to gnaw into useless fragments, and they all worked very well until they didn't. 

These mice were, of course, not produced by HP directly, but were imported and branded for HP by Micro Innovations Accessories and were, further of course, Made in China.  Micro Innovations replaced my first broken mouse without question, for postage and handling only.  Meanwhile, I had tried other brands, promptly returned them to CompUSA, and bought the second of the HP series.  When the replacement for the first arrived, it was number three and I believed I was in RF mouse heaven.  Micro Innovations still lists it in the HP mouse section of their wares as # PMO99A but HP has replaced it with a Belkin MiniWireless Optical Mouse in their product lineup.  I am distraught.  The warranty on the second HP mouse I purchased expired about two months before the mouse itself expired.  I will have to dig up my replacement receipt to determine if there is a warranty on a mouse replaced under warranty, and if so, am I too late for that, also?

I don't usually reach this level of obsessiveness about minor things, but I really like that type of mouse, right down to the way it fits my hand.  When I dream vividly, logically, and accurately about how to swap out parts so that I have working devices, I think it has gone too far.  The current problem is that the scrolling wheel action has become intermittent and also sends erratic and occasional "self-produced" signals to the little RF receiver in the USB port.  In turn, the computer responds to these chaotic commands by doing odd things at unpredictable times.  Some examples are "automatically" scrolling to the bottom of a list or page, producing a "jittery" screen where I cannot successfully chase and catch a button with the cursor to click, and occasionally refusing to do anything at all in response to a wheel scroll.

The frightening thing about the dream was that it was exactly what I would try to do to repair the problem.  For now, however, I replaced the battery compartment cover that was broken on the #1 mouse with the intact cover from the #3 mouse and I am back in business for a while longer without the use of duct tape.  Maybe it's time to consider fixing a few of the corded optical mice that Stinky ate.  Just in case.

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2007, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

"Thrift comes too late when you find it at the bottom of your purse." - Seneca

Did you know that:

The expression, "Mad as a hatter" often refers to the display of a mental condition.  It had its origin with the heavy metal (mercurous oxide) poisoning and consequent brain and kidney damage that occurred as an occupational disease in workers who made felt hats around the 1840's.  It was a cumulative poisoning which occurred to workers who inhaled the mercuric fumes of the hatmaking process in poorly ventilated workshops.  Symptoms included trembling, loosening of teeth, loss of co-ordination, slurred speech, irritability, loss of memory, depression, anxiety, and other personality changes.

The description, "Crazy as a loon" derives from the call of the Great Northern Diver or Common Loon which has a weird, haunting, laugh-like cry which it sometimes uses at night when most other birds are silent.  To some, this cry sounded like the howls of the insane.  This phrase also references the term "loon," used in Shakespearian times as a shortened form of the word "Lunatic."

The term "Lunatic" has the most frequent and ancient references to mental illness; more than any other term of which I am aware.  Reportedly it originates from the Latin "lunaticus,"  which gains its stem from Luna or Moon.  Folklore has it that there is a connection between phases of the moon and madness, especially with cyclic disorders and other mental, physiological, or behavioral disorders which may go through phases.  Interestingly, in Russian, "lunatic" refers to a sleepwalker; "one who walks under the moon" or "moonwalker."  Various sources find correlations between the full moon and a rise in general crime rate, violent crimes by women, admissions to mental health facilities, peak number of births during any month, riots, and many other phenomena.  Unfortunately, most of the scientific research is flawed and the "facts" remain undetermined.  Folklore, however, usually has a reason for remaining as common knowledge, whether science can "prove it" or not.

There are many currently used, colloquial, politically incorrect, insensitive, unusual, employment related, and other references to mental illness.  At Carnegie-Mellon University a class assignment/contest was held to collect as many phrases for "He's not playing with a full deck" as possible.  The Full Deck List is the result.  I believe people make jokes about what they don't understand, what frightens them, or possibly what they do know so much about that it frightens them.

Finally, I admit that at least one psychologist has fallen prey to this form of humor on occasion, but never to my knowledge in an offensive way.  When one has a new baby it is customary to hand out cigars or other small gifts.  I had briefly been employed at a psychiatric inpatient facility when this event occurred in my family.  When Firstborn arrived, I handed out to staff very small screw drivers with pocket clips ("loose screw tighteners") and when Number One Son came along, little mesh bags of marbles (replacements for those who "were missing some") were distributed.  For some reason, the secretaries were especially fond of the little screwdrivers (perhaps to repair their own typewriters?) but "Wild Bill," an aging psychiatrist, demanded the traditional cigar on both occasions.  Firstborn's debut was made shortly after my employment began.  At least I quickly established my reputation as somebody with whom you could lighten up.  Once I found how far I could go without offending or being reprimanded, hospital life became much more interesting.

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2007, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

"A major difference between witches and psychotherapists is that witches see the mental health of women as having important political consequences." - Naomi R. Goldenberg