Putting on my big girl pants

I am shocking my drilled well.
It’s winter and the cap of the well was buried in snow but I found it and dug it out. The nuts for the well cap bolts were a little rusted (okay, a lot rusted) and took some cranking–and my arthritic thumbs shouted back.
To shock the well, I told it off-colour jokes and swore at it, using almost all the harshest language I could think of and then I poured 133 gallons of chlorine bleach into it. I may be exaggerating but it seemed very much like 133 gallons as the chlorine glugged into the well.
I then hooked up the garden hose to the outside tap and with the other end of the hose in the well, I circulated the chlorine until I could smell chlorine coming out the hose. My nose doesn’t work all that well but I breathed as deeply as I could.
My mother could smell us misbehaving a mile away. Alas, my siblings and I sadly didn’t inherit her skilled olfactory sense. I tried the same smell test for every tap in my house. Then I sat and waited and I eventually fell asleep, and woke up this morning to begin the process of flushing the chlorine out of the system.
I tried thinking happy thoughts as I dragged the hose back out in the cold pouring rain. I tried to hum. But mostly I wondered why these grown-up activities can sometimes reduce us to despair.
Part of me wanted to crumble on to the floor and kick my feet and wail until my father came and gathered me up and whispered in my ear. “There, there,” he would have said. “I’ve got this.”
First of all, that’s not going to happen and, secondly, I never resorted to that type of behaviour when I was little and why think I could get away with it now. So instead I have to hoist up my big girl pants and carry on.
When I was young (or at the least younger), these kind of challenges were fun. That’s not the case now. I’d rather not be bothered. There are other things that I could use up my time doing, like hitting my thumb repeatedly with a hammer or stubbing my toe or calling up my dentist and telling her to do a root canal just for the fun of it.
I always feel better after I meet a challenge that tries to knock me down, but I prevail and stand up to it. I never seem to remember that the next time I have a challenge.
It isn’t as if shocking my well is a life-threatening event, but it did require me to carry 149 pails of water from the house to dump outside so that the chlorine didn’t end up in my septic field (septic fields don’t like chlorine, nor does the bacteria that keep a septic field healthy).
The fact that it is winter and it was cold didn’t help the situation, but it’s just one more thing to whine about.
If we were to line life’s challenges up in a nice straight line, shocking my well wouldn’t even make the grade. So I apologized to the universe for feeling hard done by and carried on.
wendistewart@live.ca

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail