New Year Flush and Psychic crap

Posted: January 6, 2011 in don't fight it
Tags: , , , , , , ,

So where has the blog been? Well Blog rhymes with BOG which in the gutter of British slang is only one step up from the loo or the Canadian North Forty, the throne, the John, or the ivory thought processor yes… the toilet.

You see most people want to mark the New Year with some form of reflective moment, even if it is a quiet moment of solitude when we release all the ‘Old Year’ waste and, after the first morning movement on January 1st, we head out boldly into the New Year.

Well that process took a bad turn at the Bog on New Year’s day.  Our lovely heritage cottage sewer line decided it was time to review the Old Year’s wasted moments and hold onto them for a little further consideration.

The sewer line froze and things sort of backed up.  THIS IS NEW YEARS! Do I need this?

Who wants this crap on the number one fuzzy hung over morning of the year?

Out of respect for the many illuminating ‘moments’ endured at the previous evenings festivities I shall not delve into the graphics of the deep and dark world of plugged sewers only to say that the first solution is not the best.  My solution was pragmatic (sort of), I figured that if this is some kind of ****ty psychic message I would counter with my own form of psychic retaliation, though in truth my arsenal of mental tools is at best weak and on this fine morning, for which I have the pleasure of only 2 hours sleep and it is now 9AM (thanks be to the Danish neighbors and their case of wine), it has reached unseen level of transparency.(?)

Using my powers of divination I stamp around the snow and try to ascertain where the manhole cover might be.  I probe with shovel, pike and pole to no avail.  Fortunately a friend from up the road has been watching my madcap snow rummaging and calmly points out exactly where to dig.  (The knowledge of long-term residents!) I however was close and if I’d had a fresh poplar branch I am sure I could have witched the sewer – why not, you can witch a well right?

So I dig down and removed the massive dais that covered the unknown.  So large was the lid that it could have been used as a sacrificial altar for the Gods.

The only thing that revealed itself as sacrificial was my olfactory system.  It’s New Years ands I am staring at a fetid pool of… well if you’re still with me you know.  I stared at the ¾ full abyss – is it still an abyss if it is almost full?

New Years day, hmm, a time of beginnings and I am confronted with a mass of endings so I figure it is best to approach the challenge with novelty.  I return to my psychic meanderings and attempt to walk up and down the assumed line of the sewer and project my telekinetic powers into the stubborn miasma below my feet which will release all the pipes in my home and allow my family the contentment of not having to drive to the nearest McDonald’s to use their loo!  My powers are strong, the connection is growing.  I can feel the resistance, (metaphorically okay!)  I relate to the obstruction.  ‘Are we becoming one with your nemesis?’ My wife asks, cell phone poised in her hand.  I wonder if she is trying to make a higher connection.  I beg of her to be patient.

I reach back to my grade seven science class and reason that we are all compounds connected through chemical ‘bondings’ and I should be able to empower the atoms of my mind to relate to the chemical bonds in the offending obstruction and rearrange them to reach… flow …a new and exciting exit strategy for the obstruction to pursue not dissimilar to the strategies used by the banking community when confronted with responsibility for the financial meltdown.  My telepathic messages swirl and thrust down through the frozen soil.  I’m sure I make a direct ‘contact’ with the ‘thing’ which is ruining my first day of 2011.  Combined with my telekinetic power it must budge.


Nnnnnope.  Is it my frequency?  Is there an offending transmission tower preventing me from making a connection? Is the CRAP not receiving!

Sweating and fraught with the mental exertion my friend returns with a sprung steel snake – twenty meters of hard, crushing, unforgiving thrusting steel power.

I ponder whether it is wise to forgo my newfound clairvoyant abilities in their infancy.

My adoring wife scowls and crosses her legs –someone wants to pee.  Yep get on the snake.

After an hour of threading and thrusting, gnashing and bashing, tears and jeers there came the most almighty connection to Hades from the six-inch pipe.  A whoosh, like some mistral screaming down a mountainside released and nirvana, enlightenment or sewer solemnity roared forth.  In a gush it was gone, faster than Saint Nick up a chimney.  Oh yes… like brown sludge – away it did shimmy!

Now, in reflection, I can see the importance of having enhanced my psychic stamina during this dilemma.  If I had not spent the time t indulge my mental intuitions I would not have come to the realization that every New Year’s is a crap shoot and you have to toil and keep your world flush with efforts.

Well at least mine is flush!



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