TITLE 5 SUCKS

$30,000 is what it's going to cost me. New septic system. Odd should have dealt with this. He didn't. (Like how I'm annoyed at a man, my dad no less, because he had a stroke or 5 and LEFT THIS TO ME, who doesn't KNOW from fucking septic systems..?)

Am very very very--no I mean really VERY low. 

The only good news re the septic system is that it will never back up, we're far too far up the hill on a ledge for it to ever do so. So can shower and flush at leisure. No worries until I sell, please God. Which is when all this Title 5 crap, no pun intended, has to be taken into account. 

The soil guys also managed to dig up half the back lawn looking for the septic tank, which they assured me was "only ten feet away from the house, tops," and I assured them NO WAY was it in the back lawn, my father THE AVID GARDENER never would have countenanced that, I was sure it was way down the hill in the woods somewhere. Which it indeed turned out to be. Bill the Septic Guy, who, (2 hrs of hitting rock ledge and fucking up grass later)  stopped looking at me like a dumb female, has now made me President CEO of Soil & Septic Tanks INC or whatever his company is. Should I choose to ever re-think my existence in England and move here permanently, I'd have a job divining septic tanks. Who knew I had such talents.

Ken is now upstairs at 10 PM scraping wallpaper off my father's office. He has made a run to Pittsfield, not only not gotten lost, but found a box in which to ship Peg's typewriter table, a wood post on which to install my new non-icky-beige-plastic mailbox, replacing the existing one with a nice black metal one I bought yesterday (but didn't think  further than "black" or "nice" towards posts, ] say) gone to Home Depot for more bubble and tape, and Price Chopper for you name it. And now I am happy to let him scrape wallpaper while I sit down here listening to scraping. Almost.

I might have had too much red wine. 

Bonnie and I celebrated finishing the Last Of The Oregon Boxes (like Last Of The Mohicans but with marginally fewer missing scalps) with a lovely California merlot, which I bought knowing nothing about California merlots,  but am now a fan. We sat remembering Peg and her last days, and I was in floods. Reading her fan mail again today, as I was packing it. Christ she was so loved and admired and adored. Like some sitcom God. I hope I told her enough how proud I was of her.  I hope I did. I'm not sure. Probably not.

Good news is Heidi, Terri's beagle peed on the vinyl laundry room floor today instead of a Persian rug. Terri who came to help scan Ethel &Albert TV scripts. Because I am fucking sick of it and will pay anything at this point for help.

All I hear is the scraping of wallpaper upstairs. I will now tell him to go to bed. Maybe I will too. (Not together.)