“Springtime for Hitler and Germany, Deutschland is happy and gay. We’re marching to a faster pace, look out, here comes the master race! Springtime for Hitler and Germany… winter for Poland and France. Springtime for Hitler and Germany…come on, Germans, go into your dance.” (from the fictional musical Springtime for Hitler: A Gay Romp With Eva and Adolf at Berchtesgaden – from Mel Brooks’ 1968 film The Producers.)
Ah… tis springtime (deep renewing breath) and the spring is upon us. The world is once again born anew. The flowers and trees are blooming, the pollen is flying and the allergy medication is being consumed. And along with all the cliché’ and traditional references that can be made of nature during this time of year, comes spring cleaning. Huh? Whazzat? Spring cleaning is not a natural nature based phenomenon? Really now? Despite our destruction of it, human beings are a very interactive part of the natural environment. Just because we’re not good for it doesn’t make us an exception. If ants build a hill or beavers build a damn, they’re not suddenly placed on a higher plane of natural existence, and neither are we. Gawd humans are so arrogant. Anyway…
So spring cleaning! First comes the culling, as we bag, box and cart off anything we don’t want, use or need, to the local thrift. This allows others to put our useless items to use…or realize they don’t need, use or want them either…back to the thrift (it’s a brutal cycle). Now that there’s less to clean, let’s clean. Wash the curtains, scrub the floors etc.
Now the home is ready for…eww bugs. Yes, all those creepy critters that took refuge in your house to survive winter’s chill are coming literally out of the wood work in hoards. It’s time for nuking on a residential scale—which brings us to where our story begins.
The annual bombing date for the House o’ Saw and grounds had been set a month in advance. The fir
st sign there would be trouble came one week from said set date, that’s when the drain flies first started to appear. A week later the weather threw out another possible delay (can’t fumigate in the rain). However, the 3 inch long millipede thing with twin stingers that pinned Lil Red (that’s the wife) in the hallway put all delays to rest. Wait, where had that thing come from? It looked almost prehistoric. Like something that lived primarily underground…hmmm drain flies and monster creepers…still hadn’t made the proper connection to their connection and relevance.
The house bombing went well, aside from forgetting to turn off the smoke detector, then getting several direct blasts from the bombs while racing back inside to desperately disable them. Yes, I was poisoned by my own admission, but it wasn’t until we were setting up to do the outside that our true troubles began. That was when it all came together: the flies, the creepers, the smell (which I was unaware of because I can’t) because that was when Lil Red discovered the hole.
Initially it appeared to be a big dip in the flower bed. As we removed the flower beds’s ground cover thousands upon thousands of drain flies surged out of a dark, gaping, perfectly shaped 2’ by 5’ hole. And down within the dark recesses of said hole…well…there was a lot of s***! That’s not speaking figuratively but literally, a hole full of poop. Which made no sense because our septic tank was over there somewhere, right? This was right beside the front porch and…we need to call somebody. Because if the tank is over there, and the poop is over here, then we have a very serious problem.
Luckily we had been misled about the location, and there wasn’t a cesspool of feces under our lawn. Unluckily, the homemade tank, which had survived since the house’s birthdate in 1964, had completely collapsed from the inside out. Well, I suppose after 52 years of putting up with everybody’s s*** it was due for a break.
So the septic adventure begins anew and soon the creepy crawlers will head back underground and the drain flies will fly away…or die…or whatever it is poop eating bugs do when the poop supply is cut off. Till then, Lil Red has resigned to stay indoors. She keeps insisting that the flies are biting her. Even though I know that drain flies do not bite, I assure her that it’s just because she’s so sweet. Resisting the urge to say, “Well…you know they do eat…” She sweetly responded upon proofreading this by saying that since my article this week was about “things full of s***” she had the perfect picture in mind.
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Hope to hear from ya, until then try and stay focused. See ya!
