It is a chilly mountain morning as I walk downtown to the museum. A truck rattles up the dusty road. Our new, 1000-gallon septic tank is strapped to its bed. It looks so pristine. I wonder if it knows what its future will hold.
When we moved into our current home, we were told it has a septic tank. When the plumbing backed up, we realized that what we really have is a 30-gallon evacuation pump, which for a family of 4... I'll say no more.
I flip on the portable heater. Our 1867 brick and mortar museum, with hinged, heavy steal doors, is still clinging to the predawn, near-freezing temps.
The museum season is winding down and today is already slow. So far, only 3 people have appeared. They stood at the entrance, one person reading the admission prices aloud and then deciding for everyone that $1.50 was too much.
With tasks completed, I peruse a few of my favorite Fall magazines. The October/November issue of MaryJanesFarm introduces a recipe for Curried Cashew Cauliflower — a roasted side-dish. It reminds me of a Middle Eastern favorite that I enjoyed in California. It consisted of roasted cauliflower coated with tahini, spices, and lemon juice. I love this new twist!
I step into the 80 degree sunshine to stretch and recover the use of my frozen fingers. It is easy to understand why our museum once served as a meat market.
A woman shows up to discuss possible donations to the museum. She tells me her mother was a hoarder and that her estate makes reality-show-hoarders appear normal. I mention that some of those episodes have unearthed dead cats from beneath the clutter. She replies casually, "Oh, we've had that, too."
I watch a parade of semi-trucks pass the museum. The fire camp, located on our airstrip, is being deconstructed. Verizon will soon take down their temporary tower. We do not have cell service up here, so it is startling to hear mobile phones ringing. Some residents, in their excitement, rushed out to buy new devices. (Aliens looking for signs of intelligence might want to try another planet.)
Tom, our plumber, drops by to tell me that the septic tank is installed and functional. The electrician will arrive on Monday to finish the job. Tom exits with, "Pardon the mess."
The inside temp is now tolerable. As I prepare for closing, a Canadian family arrives. One guest pays the $5.00 "family" admission and graciously donates another $7.00! I smile.
I have secured the dungeon-like doors on the Museum. I head up Montgomery toward home. Monica, a friend, offers me a ride. After depositing me on my front porch, I survey the septic tank. I then go inside to give it a test-drive.