Life in a canned ham

Sniff sniff sniff....what's that horrible smell?

I am not a poker player by nature and am only vaguely acquainted with the terminology involved, so humor me here, but I’m betting a flush beats a full house.  Plus I’ve learned some bets are better to make than others.

Let me explain why I feel so strongly on this issue.  We normally have a RV site with full hookups.  For those of you who may not be familiar with this term, it means that we have water, electric and sewer at our disposal.

For those who live in the city I imagine not many people consider or even care what happens after they push the lever on their toilets and say goodbye to what was left behind.  When Left Brain and I still lived in the “big house” we had a well and septic system, so we were more closely attuned to the comings and goings of our fluids than some others.  In this scenario you have a holding tank that needs to be pumped out every year or two.

So, transitioning to the motorhome was kind of the same, but on a smaller scale.  You need to make sure your water tanks are full and your waste tanks are emptied.  Actually this isn’t much different on a personal level either.  It’s always nice to have a full belly and an empty bladder.

Our black water tank is of a 40 gallon capacity, as is the grey water tank.  Again, for those of my readers not living in an RV the grey water tank is the stuff from the kitchen and bathroom sinks and the shower.  It’s greyish in color.  The black water tank is the stuff that exits the RV through the toilet and it’s…well, it’s really more brownish, but they call it black.  You get the picture.  I apologize to anyone reading this blog while eating.

How does one know when the tanks are getting full?  We have little monitors and gauges everywhere to tell us what is going on in the innards of our home.  You press a button and can ascertain the tank levels, battery levels, or anything else you want to know.  But just like those people who ignore the lady on the GPS trying to tell you where to go (who shall remain anonymous…you know who you are) , but you’re just SURE you know a better way…there is a tendency to ignore the warning red light when the tank levels are reaching dangerous limits.  “Oh, those things are never accurate…I’m sure we can make it the full two weeks”.  This is the phrase I keep hearing in my head.

Let me tell you this…trust the gauges!  They are designed to warn you before it’s too late.  And if that isn’t enough for you, you can always rely on your sense of smell and (gasp!) own vision. It was the smell that woke up and memories of She Devil and the foul aroma of her litter box came to mind.  Wait a minute!  It’s not that, she’s gone.  Could it be…..?  Oh no!   After heeding my own call of nature I glanced through squinted eyes to be sure….yup.  Even after stepping on the flusher I still have a visual…and not a pretty one.  Let’s just say if there was ever any question as to whether or not my “stuff” stank – this removed all doubt.

But it’s okay because today is Thursday!  We had finally agreed that we probably cannot make it two full weeks and I had arranged for the honey wagon to pay us a visit…but they only provide this service on Mondays and Thursdays.  I made this appointment on a Tuesday.  We knew it was gonna be a close call, but I had no idea just how close.

Okay, let me back up again for my non-RV friends.  A honey wagon is a portable sewage removal tank pulled behind a small four-wheel vehicle.  A nice man (or perhaps woman, who knows?) will arrive sometime today to pump our tanks and relieve us of this dilemma and all for the price of $10.  There is no extra charge for the public viewing of your waste material as it sloshes back and forth on the way to the disposal site. It’s best to do this on a quiet day when there are fewer neighbors to enjoy the Toilet Bowl Parade.

Such a deal!  I know you’d have to pay ME significantly more to go pump out someone’s ….stuff.  Why it’s called a honey wagon, I have no idea; but it sure beats some of the names I’d come up with for it, and probably explains why I don’t care for honey.

So, sometime after lunch this operation should be completed and we will be back to normal again.  Now I just have to wait until lunch time.  Hmmm.   I think I’ll go shopping for a while, find a nice public bathroom somewhere.

Well, I gotta go now.  Really….I gotta GO.

Long Live the Queen