Note: I know this isn't an interesting story, but I had to write it because this thing about having my town put in its first sewer system has taken up a large part of my life between March and July, and sometimes we just have to vent about things like this.

When a pine-y suburb reaches the point where town officials decide it's time the town has a municipal sewer system, there's an evolutionary process that can take 20 or 30 years to occur.

It can begin when increasing numbers of new residents are not entirely satisfied with the idea of homes that rely on septic tanks. Former city dwellers are often shocked to learn that the dream home in the suburbs involves a tank of nasty contents buried under the front lawn. Having a septic tank isn't all that bad once you're used to it, but it does require paying attention to the fact that it's there. People with septic tanks learn to be very careful about what toilet tissue they buy, what cleaners they allow to go down any drain, and when to have the tank pumped. One problem with having a septic tank and leaching lines is that the lines can eventually need to be replaced, and that's a pretty expensive project that few people enjoy spending their money on.

In any case, the evolutionary process has clearly begun when talk among the townspeople changes from, "This town will never have sewers," to "Did you hear? We're getting sewers?!!" Even then, though, the idea that the town will one day have a town sewer system can seem like an elusive, one-day, dream (kind of like the dream of a worry-free life or world peace or something like that). Essentially, talk of getting sewers is just that - talk. Nobody really takes it too seriously for a good long time. In the case of my town, I don't know how long the talk went on. I'm going to say 15 years, maybe? What happened was that over the course of that time the talk escalated as serious steps began to be taken by town officials in the direction of getting the sewer project under way. As with all major undertakings in any town, there was the funding issue, the vast array of voting and approvals, and all the other behind-the-scenes doings that must take place to get such a project underway. It was around 2000 when the idea of getting sewers had gone past being just talk and changed to be something people took more seriously. The first work began in 2003 in our town. It was made clear, however, that all the main roads would be done first and the farther in anyone's street was, the farther out into the future the reality of sewers was. My street isn't a main street or a sort-of-main-ish street off a main street. My street is a one-entrance street with a straight part that goes into a circle and comes back out onto that same straight part. It is two streets in from a sort-of-main-ish street; so for years I've known that the reality of sewers was not anything much I needed to think about.

For years, when we've driven on the main roads in town, we've seen the occasional yellow equipment show up and said, "They're putting in the sewers." Work has been done here or there, and it was for only a brief time that the main road had detours from one part of it or another. In other words, we've grown used to having digging and equipment show up in one place or another, but we've never been awfully inconvenienced by it.

It was in 2007 that signs we made need new leaching lines started to show up. All of a sudden how much I cared about when sewers would be built on my street dramatically increased. Nobody wants to spend thousands of dollars on leaching lines, particularly if they're only going to be needed for a couple of years. That's when we learned that sewers were not too far off for our street, provided the town could come up with money for them (and there was no guarantee of that). There was a few-month wait before we'd know if the project was to go on, and eventually the town came up with the money. We knew the leaching lines would hold up for another little while, which meant that the thousands of dollars could go to hooking up to the new sewer system rather than paying for major septic system repair. One way or another there would be some major paying for the privilege of toilet flushing, but it would be better to invest in future flushing than in a going-nowhere septic system. Ain't life grand.

If I remember correctly, it was last Fall when someone went around and dropped off a bunch of big, concrete-looking, round, things every several houses on the street. Whoa!! The sewer dream was becoming a reality. Not being familiar with the stuff of which sewers are built I came to call the big, round, things "hot tubs". That's what they looked liked (sort of). When I'd walk by the round things I'd imagine how interesting it would be to sit in there and read a book. (I had apparently been transported back to thinking like a ten-year-old.) When I'd drive up the street with a friend, we'd joke about the round things being mini-homes for small people. Some were "two-story". It turns out adults can have the imaginations of children when faced with peculiar round things on a suburban street.

It was in March that other big, odd, items began being left on the street. A couple of porta-potties for the workers were well worth making a few jokes about. Giant stacks of green pipes were on one lawn or another. One day I came to discover that hay bails with sticks in them had been placed in rows at the edges of some people's property. Black plastic was included with hay bails with sticks by a nearby creak and pond. This was getting interesting. I can't explain why the neighbors and I were so fascinated with each new surprise that was left somewhere. I guess it's just that none of us has been through the process of having sewers put in before.

It was also in March that we got the first letter that a temporary water supply would be installed during the sewer project. (Who knew?) That meant that while the temporary water supply was being installed our water would be shut off each morning early and turned back on "as soon as possible". The letter assured residents that every effort would be made to keep the inconvenience to a minimum. Ok. Now we were REALLY getting sewers. I was excited. (Keep in mind that I'd been listening to the sewer talk for - like - 25 years AND that we were dodging the multi-thousand-dollar leaching-line bullet because of this wonderful (and oh so civilized) sewer system.)

I saw the water-shut-off situation as "kind of like a camping adventure". Enjoying my "organizational abilities" and ability to deal with anything, I made sure we had plenty of spring water for drinking and cooking. Each night I'd fill other bottles with water clean enough to rinse dishes with. Then I'd make sure there were lots of other bottles of water for toilet flushing. And - this one I was particularly proud of - I'd leave single-size bottles of spring water in the bathroom closet for anyone who needed to brush his teeth. Although I kept "hand-washing" water available, everyone knows hands can't be washed well by dumping water over them. So, I made sure I stocked up on hand sanitizers and moist towelettes. I filled a spray bottle with alcohol (just in case anyone wanted/needed it for any cleaning). I kept spray Clorox near all the sinks, as well as towelettes for whatever use anyone may have. I was PREPARED!

One new surprise we residents discovered was that the temporary water supply involved running a bunch of blue pipes and yellow pipes up the street and across the street. There was some kind of turn-off handle sticking out of a hole in my front yard. The real surprise was that the workmen put down a blacktop lump at the end of each driveway, in order to protect the blue pipe running across it. We came to call the blacktop lumps, "mountains"; and everyone had one. Some people had bigger mountains than others. We were fortunate to have a "less dramatic" one. The trouble with the "mountains", though, was that they were soft; so I'd have to be very careful not to let my heels catch in the soft blacktop. Also, in some places, there was a tendency to turn an ankle. That was fine, though. I'm not really someone who is bothered by small inconveniences.

What I wasn't prepared for was that the temporary water supply would apparently be cutting loose a few times a day for the first few weeks. This meant the street would be suddenly be flooded; and even though our water had been turned back on from the "regular" work, it would suddenly go out at all times of day because of the problem with temporary set-up. Members of my family became aware of needing to get shampoo out of hair as soon as possible because we never knew when the water would go out. We had trucks with yellow lights showing up in the middle of the night. It could be any time during the daylight hours that we'd see workmen's water bottles floating down the street in the latest gush. This "adventure" wasn't quite as much fun as I had imagined it could be. It was getting to be frazzling to never know when we'd have water, or for how long.

This was just the temporary water supply. This wasn't even the "real" work. It was Spring, and the "surprises" that were being left were adding up. The bottom of the street was being dug up, but it was only occasionally that anyone was late for work because of it. Some big, red, "tank thing" was pumping water at the bottom of the street, and big stacks of tire pieces (that looked like Jabba the Hutt) were showing up on people's lawns (for the blasting that would be taking place). Giant things that looked like car-sized anvils showed up too. Then, too, a couple of houses had big metal things that looked like little bus stop shelters. It was getting even more interesting.

It was a little disheartening to realize that nobody's lawn would be looking very pretty this year. People went ahead and put out or planted their usual Spring flowers, but the street didn't look very nice with all the "junk" everywhere. Oh well..... There's always next year.

The temporary water supply continued to cut loose every so often, but it wasn't happening as often as it had in the first few weeks. We watched the equipment slowly creep up the bottom of the street, and we believed we knew the pattern with which the work would be done. Wrong. All of a sudden holes started showing up in different places each day. We knew the workmen had a plan, but it looked as if they were just picking areas to work on willy-nilly. Ok, so there would be no understanding of the pattern. At this point, there was a giant mess at the bottom of the street and several small messes willy-nilly in other places. There was some house-shaking going on each morning. Apparently, some of it was caused by the blasting. Some was caused by the equipment, which was getting increasingly bigger as April turned into May.

For a few weeks I was concerned about some giant gray trucks that were going up and down the small residential street at, I'm guessing, about 50 miles per hour. I knew these guys were speeding because the guys in the yellow trucks were obviously going at a more reasonable speed. The street is a circle, so it has lots of curves. All I thought about were young neighborhood children and pets being hit. My own daughter drives her car in and out of this street all the time. I held off calling the contractor because I thought it would stop, but as it went on for days I began thinking of calling someone to politely request the guys in the gray trucks slow down. Because I'm generally not the type to want to "make a stink", I held off long enough that it eventually stopped. My nerves were getting more and more frazzled with this sewer stuff at this point. A little house shaking can be kind of interesting. Daily house-shaking, combined with incessant, noisy, trucks and equipment going up and down and up and down gets frazzling (particularly when you're still never sure you'll have water). One day we had no electric power. Another day the Internet went out. I still have no idea what those surprises were about.

Ordinarily, I like to go for a nice walk out to get breakfast on Spring mornings, but with the work being done I didn't really want to discover myself walking past blasting. It's quite a long walk from my house out to the other street. Also, there was this big "claw thing" that was in constant motion and that move from one area of the street to another. If one wanted to walk by all the work the workmen would stop the equipment until one passed, but who really wants to stop a bunch of giant claws and whatever other yellow equipment there is on what is supposed to be a relaxing morning walk out for breakfast.

By June we had learned to take showers at night (and hope the temporary water supply didn't break). Many neighbors admitted to aiming to time their digestive systems in a way that would allow them to either "go" at night or else at work. Some said they took showers at the gym or work. We were all patient and understanding, but it was starting to get to us. Things like fear of losing water with a head full of shampoo and trying to get one's system to cooperate with the more convenient "on" water times can wear thin after a couple of months. Changing all the bottles and kettles of emergency water each night was getting to be a real pain in the neck. We were still people with a septic tank. I had visions of filling the septic tank with all the emergency water changes! I knew, of course, that wouldn't really happen. After all, septic tanks can actually be quite adequate. (Come to think of it, was getting these new sewers even worth it?!!)

The street was no longer quite the "wonderland of peculiar stuff" it had been. It had started to look and sound like a war zone. Giant metal sheets covered giant holes in the street. Smaller holes in the street had turned into what looked like sink holes. Where the blacktop was still in place there was ankle-turning gravel and tire-sliding sand and mud. The real killer was that in spite of all the progress that appeared to be being made, all the giant hunks of stuff and all the stacks of pipes were still sitting where they'd been sitting for months. Through it all there were regular notices being left in our storm door, telling us about water shut-offs, parking, or whatever else there was to tell us. Every time the noise outside got particularly "dramatic sounding" I'd go to the window, expecting to see some of the pipes or the "hot tubs" being swung through the air by some kind of equipment. I wanted to see big things being swung through the air for all that noise and vibration. I never saw that. In spite of all the noise and apparent road drama and trauma outside, it seemed the moving of all the pipes and other stuff was being done with stealth.

Things got more frazzling as the work got closer to my house. I had kind of been expecting to get a "Jabba the Hutt" on our lawn. (I don't know why I found these particularly disgusting-looking piles of tires interesting, but I did. I guess it's that ten-year-old kid within again.) It turned out we didn't have blasting that close to our house. Instead, some big piece of equipment was used to crash through the pavement and whatever else needed to be crashed through. Now HERE was some house-shaking. Although I had moved some glassware earlier, I now went around and moved anything that may cling, fall, or otherwise be affected by house-shaking. It was a little unnerving to hope nobody did anything that would cause a gas line to break or to cause a crack in the foundation of the house, so I tried not to think much about it as the house-shaking became more and more frequent and dramatic.

One day I went out with a friend in her car in the morning, and when we returned at lunch time discovered that no cars could go farther than several houses down the street. There was flowing mud everywhere, and a massive rectangular hole in the street with orange helmets moving around a few feet below the street. I got out of the car several houses down the street and made my way up to my own through people's yards (which isn't as easy as it sounds, in view of the fact that the landscaping and fences aren't necessarily designed for walking through). Oh well, at least the speeding trucks wouldn't be coming by.

This was the start, though, of my house being where "the main action was". This meant that we had days when the guys in the orange hat would start knocking on the door at 6:45 to warn us that cars needed to be out of the driveway within a few minutes. Some big silver "claw thing" showed up. That was new. For a couple of mornings there were knocks on the door all morning long for one reason or another. It was like Trick-or-Treat, without the fun of little kids and costumes and instead with some inconvenient request being made. One day a guy kept telling me that the water would be off again for a while. (I wondered why, all of a sudden, we were being given the courtesy of this personal notification after a season of willy-nilly water shut-offs.) Some box-looking thing showed up on the lawn and ran a motor all night long. (I think it was generator.) A network of fat hoses was strung all over the front of the house, and one of them went to a disgusting, bubbling, "mud spring" that was coming out of the street. It made a gurgle that somehow made one feel a little nauseated. The house-shaking was getting more and more regular. The water was being shut off more and more often. Knocks on the door for talk about whether our water pressure in the kitchen was normal were a new twist to the whole thing. The crashing and banging and whatever else was going on went on for most of the day, and at this point I had gone from being frazzled to feeling as if my head was going to explode.

It was getting yet closer. Workmen seemed to be "crawling all over" my yard. I'd be in the bathroom and hear them in the yard underneath the window. One day a workman knocked on the door to ask me where I wanted the hook-up. Apparently, they hadn't gotten the drawing they'd requested to show where the hook-up should go. "Where do we want the hook-up?" I thought. I don't really care. I care about "which drapes do I want" or "which cabinets do I want?" We had sent in the drawing that showed the hook-up in the area of our existing septic tank. Now I was being asked where I wanted it. I told the guy I had assumed it was going somewhere near where the septic tank is now, and he said that would be the most direct and inexpensive way to go. (Live and learn, and word to the wise: If you're getting a new sewer hooked up to your home go for the plan that hooks it up as near to your existing septic tank as possible.) We agreed on that, and I hoped I wouldn't be asked anything else about this new sewer situation because I don't know anything about sewers or hooking them up. (I have to say, though, it is interesting to know that one has been given the choice about where one wants his sewer hook-up to be. I've just always thought other people made those decisions.) When it had been something that was going on "in the street" it was one thing. Now, with all orange-hatted guys knocking at the door for one reason or another throughout the day, it was getting personal.

As I said, I'm not usually someone who can't take minor inconveniences in stride. Still, we human beings can only take so much house-shaking and non-stop equipment noises before our nerves wear thin. Actually, I may have had a couple of strikes against me because, after not being sick for two years, it happened that I got a bad virus in April. (Actually, I wondered if I had taken in some kind of disgusting virus or bacteria from that temporary water supply that had so much trouble remaining sealed.) In any case, this was one of those flu-type viruses that hung on in the form of exhaustion and a cough long after it should have. As it was finally "signing off" about three weeks ago, I came down with Hives, which were believed to be the virus' last hoorah. (Actually, I wondered if the Hives were really from nerves and stress.) It's hard to describe how stressful it can be to have the kind of work being done outside the house that we have. It has occurred to me that one wouldn't think it would be that stressful. It isn't like I've been living with all kinds of renovations going on inside the house or living without a roof, or something like that. In any case, I've been kind of running on 4 of my usual 6 cylinders anyway, so maybe that hasn't helped.

As the work was focused in front of my house, we got into things like knowing there would be no access in or out of the driveway after a certain time. People began adjusting their schedules to the sewer work. The mail delivery and trash pick-up were shifted to late in the day (which was just as well, since one never knew if the mailbox would be knocked down in the middle of all the work). One day the vibrations were bad enough to shatter the bulb in the driveway light. It wasn't a big deal, but this was the kind of stuff that was adding up (and probably giving me Hives!). Whether or not contaminated "temporary" water made me sick in April, and whether or not it was the virus or stress that gave me Hives, I know that not feeling all that great over the last couple of months hasn't helped me take all this sewer stuff in stride.

Finally, one day - that day of all days - we discovered that the blacktop "mountain" at the end of the driveway was gone. So was the blue pipe that it had been protecting. True, there was a gravel mess and a hose strung across the end of the driveway; but the "mountain" I'd grown so used to was gone. Progress must have been made. Over the days to follow the drama out in front of my house died down. There was still intermittent house-shaking and lots of goings on, but there was whole half-hour stretches when the house will both still and silent. The giant rectangular hole in the street was no longer covered in giant sheets of metal. Instead, it was filled in with dirt. The yellow claw was sitting in front of the house next door; but these yards are big, so that means it was quite a way up the street. With each passing day it seemed that there was more and more peace (even if our water has been shut off each day for the last week or so until late afternoon).

It's also hard to describe how you're not really aware of being quite as frazzled as you apparently are under these circumstances. I mean, life has been fine all Spring (a little inconvenient but fine). It's as if the "nerves thing" just kind of looms there without notice, causing a sense of stress that's kind of "low key". Again, it's difficult to describe.

Well, yesterday I went out to get the mail (the mailbox has remained standing thus far - knock wood), and - lo and behold - all the hoses and other stuff was gone. I stood in the middle of my driveway, looking down toward the end of it in disbelief. I looked at the edge of the lawn from end of the yard to the other, and there were no signs of anything sewer-installation-related. The handle (I'm guessing it was related to the temporary water supply) coming out of the ground was gone. The clothing items left behind by the workers were gone.

As I stood there in disbelief, scanning the whole edge of the property, I actually felt the tears coming to my eyes! I was numb. Just in time to prevent my head from exploding, it appears the worst of it is over. It was gone - all of it! Yes, we still have a giant spot that looks like a gravel grave at the edge of the front lawn, but the rest of it is gone. I headed down to the cleared end of the driveway and got the mail from the mailbox which, like Old Ironsides, miraculously withstood things an ordinary mailbox would ever be expected to withstand. I brought in the mail, sat down at the dining room table where I'd experienced months of house-shaking and unrelenting noise, and cried for just a little while. Who cries tears of relief because a bunch of hoses disappeared from the end of the driveway?!! (Me, apparently. As I said, my nerves have become increasing shot to heck.)  ("My fellow, long-suffering, neighbors:  Our long neighborhood nightmare is over.  We should have a neighborhood get-together to celebrate - that is after our street has been checked off of that repaving schedule.")

Although the street continues to have a strip of unpaved dirt on it, there is nothing left by my house or the neighbors' houses other than those "gravel graves" where sections of lawn used to be . Quiet has, for the most part, been restored to the quiet little street; and I have to say I didn't realize how much I appreciate this quiet street until this last four-plus months of noise and "busy-ness". Today when I went to get the mail I saw that the mess left behind by the blacktop "mountain" had been cleaned away, holes left behind by the "handle thing" were filled in, and it even looks as if the street has been swept. The workman's two pieces of red clothing (which we've been seeing for weeks), the piece of navy blue clothing (which we've been seeing for days), the water bottles and Gatorade bottles - all cleaned up. Only a few cigarette butts were left behind.

Online I found the "repaving schedule" for the part of the sewer project under which my street falls. Apparently, the street will be repaved some time between the remainder of 2009 and the end of 2010. That's ok. I can live with the strips of dirt. Besides, I'm not sure I want to hear any more trucks out there for a good, long, time.

I just may celebrate all this by doing the wild and crazy thing of buying toilet paper that isn't marked, "safe for septic tanks"; and buying whatever the hell kind of tank drop-in I feel like buying! So what if I can never get back the Spring of 2009! I can now count myself among the civilized and the modern. I can now count myself among those who don't have to think about a septic tank, what I clean my sink and toilets with, or whether guests are aware that people need to use a little extra care when septic tanks are in use. Ain't life grand.

Heck - I can count myself among the people who will NEVER, EVER, go through the whole town sewer thing again; because I can tell you this: If I ever buy another house it will not be a house that "will be getting sewers" in the near or distant future!

See the big metal thing in the video? At least two people in my area had those on their lawns. I realized that if I start to think my neighborhood is too quiet and boring I can watch this video and get transported back to the sounds of Spring '09.

This video doesn't exactly apply to the subjectmatter here; but in view of the words, "We gotta get out of this place" and my sewer saga, I couldn't resist.