The plane lands on Maui.
Everyone turns on their phone.
Satellites acquire.
Suddenly, I hear the texts queue up on my phone: tweet, tweet… tweet, tweet, like a songbird on steroids…tweet tweet… tweet tweet tweet…
They’re all from our house sitter: Came home and the septic high water alarm was on. Won’t go off. Loud. Annoying. Neighbor came over. Nice guy. Diesel mechanic, like my son! Lucy is fine. What to do?
Happy Wife and I collapse in disbelief. NOT. AGAIN. Two years ago on the eve of our flight to Hawaii a pipe in the septic tank broke, sending the high water alarm into paroxysms. We must’ve looked like parents who just got word their child had died, judging from the looks of the deplaning passengers observing our horror.
We walk to baggage claim; I call the house sitter; the neighbor is there; troubleshooting plan is devised; tools are acquired; time passes. Snow is shoveled to expose the tank lid; screws removed and gray water tank is inspected; no break in the pipe. Yeah! And so? Test the lift station pump manually, I say. I hear the alarm screaming through the phone. Neighbor removes fuse; alarm goes silent. Time passes; the pump is tested manually. But the water, she no come. Ah ha! Bad pump. Water can’t get to the leech field. Tank fills up.
Whew. Could be worse. Much worse.
Of course, this had to happen at 11:30 pm on Friday night. Septic people don’t work Saturdays. Nevertheless, neighbor calls and leaves a message. I thank him and house sitter profusely.
The following morning a reassuring call comes from septic people: “Rod, we got your back. We’ll fix this Monday. Enjoy your vacation. No worries.”
Reassurance accepted.
And so Happy Wife and I venture out for our morning espresso near the Napili Market. Marshall waits obediently near the door for his upright to return. I tell Marshall we’re from Alaska. Marshall says, “Alaska?! Do tell. I’m all ears.”
Later, Otis and I ride to Lahaina and back (~20 mi) to get my legs . I stop at Bad Ass coffee for an iced Mocha:
Back at the condo, Happy Wife and I expose our pasty white selves:
Later still, the sun sets behind our Mai Tai’s at the Sea House bar:
No Worries.