Of Sewers and Speeding

The hubby and I live in an older neighborhood located just on the outskirts of our quaint Tennessee town. All of the homes sit on large (acre +) lots that are dotted with towering oak, maple and magnolia trees. We love it.

Like many neighborhoods of this era, the homes were built with septic tanks. At first, I was a little grossed out by the whole concept. It seemed like we were just one step away from having an outhouse. Cue the horrible flashbacks to Colorado campgrounds and summer camp.

Thankfully, our tank has always functioned properly. In fact, most of the time, I forget that it is even there.

A few of our neighbors have not been so fortunate. Our dear friends get what we refer to as "the poopie puddle" after a bout of especially rainy weather. As a result, the county has decided to hook all of the homes in the area onto the sewer.

Keep in mind, this is not a sewer in the traditional sense. The county is installing an electric grinder/pump system that will basically grind the poo into a "slurry" and then pump it into small pipes that feed into the main sewer lines.

As I type, I can hear the work crew making it's way down my street installing the feeder lines. Once all of the lines are in place, homeowners can opt to make the switch to sewer. The last estimate put the price tag at a mere $24,000 per home. Yikes.

For some of our neighbors, hooking up to the sewer is the answer to years of septic troubles. The hubby and I, however, have had no problems and are trying to decide if the hefty installation costs are worth it. The debate continues...

In other news, I got a speeding ticket yesterday. I was coasting down one of the million hills here in my neck of the woods and got clocked going 12 miles over the speed limit. The truth be told, I should have been riding my breaks so that I could remain at the 30 mph limit.

I honestly couldn't remember the last time I was pulled over. With no prior tickets on my record, coupled with the fact that I was coming down a steep hill, I felt certain that the kind officer would let me off the hook. I wasn't so lucky.

The officer told me, "Well, I hate to do this, but since there haven't been many people driving this way (insert long pause)... I guess I'm going to go on ahead and issue you a citation."

I wanted to say, "Golly, thanks officer. I am so happy that I could help you meet your quota of tickets for the day." Instead, I politely apologized, signed the $116 ticket and then went on my way.

Now I have to decide if I want to go to court and try to beg my way into traffic school or if I would just rather write a check. Knowing my painfully frugal self, a day in court is probably in my future. I can hardly wait.