In my case, once it leaves my possession, it’s whisked away by my highly efficient, environmentally friendly low-flow toilet. It travels down the pipes, into the septic tank and through the pump before it’s distributed through the field line that lays under my backyard.
Except when it doesn’t because your pump is broken and all that papery goodness has no place to go except back up the pipes from whence it came.
The first call is to the plumber who shows up at 7 and reams out pipes for a hour and half.
He was the best smelling plumber I ever met, but I walked outside after he got started and understood why he doused himself in cologne.
He got us past the immediate emergency (ie. no flushing) but said that we needed to have the system pumped out the next day.
So, at 9 the next morning, this showed up:
Husband called it the Honey Wagon. The guy driving it had another name which I’ll leave to your imagination. Honey Wagon guy walked around the yard and poked sticks here and there and was generally disapproving of our septic tank maintenance. A little while later, Back Hoe guy showed up and the fun really started.
I figure this is about when we passed the thousand dollar mark.
Have you ever used a latrine at a state park? Or an outhouse? Or a Port-A-Potty?
We also bought these big black things today too.
The moral of the story? Just because you’ve flushed, doesn’t mean you’ve seen the last of your toilet paper.