People often dream about owning a home. They picture cozy evenings, blooming gardens, quiet mornings with coffee, and the satisfaction of having a place that’s truly their own. What they don’t usually picture is a sewer lift station with an alarm.
Yesterday morning, our wonderful Ninja Neighbor called.
“Your alarm is going off.”
“What alarm?
Oh, wait.
You mean THAT alarm?”
Not a burglar alarm. Not a smoke detector. Nothing nearly that exciting. Our sewer lift station alarm.
Why the alarm is installed so that no one inside the house can actually hear it is one of life’s great mysteries. Just a blinking red light and a dull, rhythmic sound, not really alarmish at all. Thankfully, our neighbor heard it and knew exactly what it meant. Living on the high desert plains of northwestern Nevada is just a wee bit different from city life.
When the alarm sounds, you don’t call 911. You call the secret City Works phone number that every homeowner guards like treasure. After being transferred a couple of times, your information is taken, and then…you wait.
Before long, one truck arrives. Then another. Sometimes even a third.
The instructions are simple.
“Use NO water for about an hour.” This included, but was not limited to, flushing, showering, laundry, dishwashing, or any other function that drains through pipes.
Meanwhile, after the hatch was opened, a very large pump was hoisted out of the ground while another was lowered into its place. I don’t pretend to understand the mechanics of it. I simply remained inside, doing what I love the most. Writing.
I’d just gone out to check the mailbox.
Oy vey.
Everything seemed to be going perfectly. But they always do before an accident. One of the workers accidentally and unwillingly ingested something from the … operation. Out of that space, worse than mace to the face. He mentioned that as he was calling for backup. That was my cue that any questions might not be helpful.
The trucks left. A little while later, they returned—minus one very unfortunate employee.
“Just a downside to this job, Ma’am.”
I decided I didn’t need to know any more than that.
Eventually the new pump was installed, the alarm was silenced, and life returned to normal. Water flowed. Toilets flushed. The laundry could again agitate without guilt. Crisis averted, except for that one poor soul.
Owning a home has certainly brought its share of surprises over the years. There are broken sprinklers, stubborn weeds, leaking faucets, mysterious noises in the night, and apparently, sewer lift station alarms that only the neighbors can hear.
But here’s the deal. Even with all the unexpected repairs, phone calls, and occasional adventures involving city maintenance crews, I wouldn’t trade this life for anything.
Winterpast has given us quiet mornings, star-filled skies, faithful neighbors, wildlife wandering through the yard, and stories I never could have made up if I tried.
Sometimes homeownership isn’t glamorous. Sometimes it’s downright messy.
But it’s still home.
And around here, that’s worth every unexpected alarm.
