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The dyspeptic septic (or the grass is always greener) This is what happens when you purchase a dwelling in the country, or on a lake, or away from your basic city centre: you think about septic tanks. In spite of your bucolic situation, you still have to deal with the messy bits -- and when I say bits I ain't whistling Dixie, eh?
When I was cleaning up the cottage I purchased a little while back, I came across a note stuck to the wall behind the terlet (and let me tell you, since the crack team from DownWithUp dismantled the old vinyl terlet seat - talk about your left cheek pinch! - with a simple white American Standard terlet seat, life has been complete). The note read:
"If it's yellow it's mellow
You know, the usual cottage thing. But then it said:
"Don't flush the toilet paper. Please dispose in the garbage pail."
HUH? They were kidding, right? I did some digging... not literally! Turns out my parents' neighbours don't flush the stuff either. "Makes the septic tank maintenance easier," they say.
I have dispatched a few Pigdump stringers to check out what the deal is with septic systems in other parts of the country. So far I've heard from central Ontario where a septic system on Georgian Bay allows toilet paper. I'll let you know what is happening in the Maritimes when our freelancer out there reports in.
As for me, I say FLUSH IT ALL! I mean face it...what would I rather do? Clean up the garbage bin after a long weekend of beef and booze, or call for the honey wagon a year sooner than those nutty neighbours have to? Yep. Uh-huh. Right. No question.
Thanks and good luck.
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