the unknown underworld

We occupy a sacred space. We have separated ourselves from the earthy, the dirty, and the profane far more effectively than the ancient Israelites. We need to touch nothing that has not already been cleansed, disinfected, or even irradiated for our sake. And mysterious forces carry away all that is polluted, filthy, and unclean from us.

I am talking about modern plumbing, and modern distancing from reality.

I make use of plumbing all the time. Several times a day. And usually, it requires no attention from me whatsoever. A year ago, though, I became a homeowner in a house with a basement. The pipes are visible, and there are so many of them. My personal restroom is down there among the pipes. And every once in a while, twice in this house, once catastrophically in an apartment I rented, sewage or sludge backs up in the pipes and overflows into my life.

And I call the plumber, and the problem goes away. But how do I prevent it? How could I fix it myself? What will happen to my lovely pipes when the revolution comes and there are no more plumbers?

I am a generally well-educated person. I have some experience with construction. I could tell you a bit about wiring, or how a car works. I could explain much of the engineering of the Hoover Dam, probably. But ask me about this cleansing river that flows underneath my home, and I have to throw up my hands and call somebody.

A hundred years ago, when my grandmother was growing up, a flush toilet was a conversation piece. And it didn't work that well. And now, it may be the invertion I could least imagine living without. Gasoline engines, air conditioning, information tech: I'd trade it all for a good flush--after experiencing a nasty broken public restroom or two.

And yet it might as well be magic to me. What makes the water flow? How much water pressure is in the pipes? In the toilet basin? How much clean water passes into the sewer? Could the sewage still flow properly if we all used extremely low-flush tanks and recycled our other water? How far does the sewage flow before it is treated? Does it need to flow downhill? How can we have toilets on the third floor? What would happen if we tried to dig a sub-basement with a bathroom below the sewer system pipes?

I don't know the answer to these questions. And I have been seduced by apathy into believing I don't need to know the answer to these questions. The plumber and the city manager can take care of it.

But when the gunk flows backward, our faith in society comes into question. Can they truly guarantee me a sewage-free life? Can I really trust others to take care of my shit for me? Or do I need to get more involved? Will I be fleeced by greedy plumbers? Will an ignorant electorate put into place leaders who do not care for our civic infrastructure, flooding entire cities with human waste when hurricanes or earthquakes visit? Will I have no capacity to handle the smells and the dirt of existence if I have to face it without my affluent bubble of disinfectant?

I need to do some reading.

Supper tonight was leftover KFC chicken: a mixture of Extra Crispy and Original, now with a different, healthier kind of fat. Also, some of my kids' leftover pizza and macaroni.