What Damn Hole? — Part One

Goddamn that damn hole, I say.

What damn hole? You say.

The one I dug in the back yard in the approximate location of my well-hose leak. The one I placed poorly, because I don’t have x-ray vision to see through the damn dirt. I located the hose after a very big hole was dug. I found a place where a heavily rusty hose coupler looked like a likely evil-doer, but that wasn’t leaking.

What’s the matter, you ask.

I got to dig some more hole! I say. A lot more hole. I see where the water is flowing from, but there’s a lot of hose in that direction; it may be two more inches, two more feet, or twenty more feet! I’m sweating all over from this one little hole (and all of its attendant grasping roots), and I’m sore all over, too. I’ve had to stop, it’s getting past 8 and is fairly dark now. Tomorrow I’ll suffer some more. I expected to work on it more tomorrow, but I expected to get a little more than this done. But this is how all my repairs and fixit jobs go. More later!

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