#blocked sewage drain

[clearwaterplumbing1]

Fix Blocked Drains Dandenong

Fix Blocked Drains or Leaking Pipes with Clearwater Plumbing, Dandenong

Clearwater can clear a blocked drain or fix your leaking pipe today, guaranteed! Call us now to book in one of our qualified plumbers to repair your pipework.

Various tools that are used to clean blocked drains

Sometimes, you are alone insufficient to clear the blocked drains due to inadequate knowledge. Moreover, you are not equipped with proper cleaning tools. So, in this case, you need to hire a plumber who has enough experience in this field and moreover, he possesses all the necessary equipment that are required to unclog the blocked drains. Below, we are mentioning certain tools that are used by the plumbers to get rid of the blockages.

1.Plunger: Plumbers have usually used a plunger to unclog your sinks, toilets, and bathtubs. At first, they submerged the plunger in water before they press the plunger into the drain opening to unclog the blockages. A plumber needs to give pressure on the plunger and release it severally in order to remove the blockages from the drains.

2.Plumber's snake: A plumber's snake or a cable auger is a particular tool that is mainly used to get rid of blockages which are situated deeper in the drain. The plumber's snake is a long cable near about hundred feet. This cable is made from flexible steel wires so that it can't break easily. A plumber usually lowered the tool into the drain and pushed until the blockage is detected. Then, he twists the tool for several times until the blockage is broken down into small pieces. These small pieces now can easily pass through the drain.

3.Electric power auger: If the blockage is very big that it can't be managed by plumber's snake, then the plumbers are preferred to use an electric power auger. This is also a plumber's snake which contains a motor. The motor is turned on when the auger reached to a blockage. The motor then breaks the blockage into several small pieces which can easily pass through the drain.

Hope, now you have a clear idea regarding the blocked drains and how you can unclog those blockages. So, if you want to maintain a healthy and salubrious atmosphere inside your home, then should pay some attention to your drainage system.

Clearwater Plumbing is an eminent company which provides plumbing services along with block drains in Dandenong South and its nearby areas. Their expert plumbers possess all essential tools that are required to remove the blockages in the drains.

[activerooter9]

Looking For The Best Plumbing Services In OH

If you are looking for the best plumbing services in Ohio, Active Rooter Plumbing & Drain is the perfect option for you. They offer a comprehensive range of services, including drain cleaning, pipe repair, and emergency plumbing solutions. Their experienced team is equipped with the latest tools and technology, making them a reliable option for both residential and commercial plumbing needs in Ohio.

[activerootersposts]

Looking for Plumbing Sewer Drain Cleaning in OH

Active Rooter Plumbing & Drain offers expert plumbing sewer drain cleaning services in Ohio (OH). We specialize sewer and drain cleaning with a fast and reliable service, they ensure that your plumbing issues are resolved efficiently. Whether it's a clogged drain, a sewer backup, or regular maintenance, their experienced team uses the latest technology to diagnose and fix problems quickly. Visit here:- https://activerootersewerdraincleaning.com/

[drainexpertnepal]

Sewage & Drainage Cleaning Service in Kathmandu, Bhaktapur and Lalitpur - Call: +977-9765355755.

Whenever you want blocked drainage cleaning service (dhal jam safai sewa) call us immediately to solve your drainage problems. 

We are local drain plumbers of Kathmandu, Bhaktapur and Lalitpur specialised in Drainage cleaning, sewage cleaning, drain unblocking, sewer lines hydro jetting, repairing the drainage pipes and installing the new sewer pipes. 

We offer our plumbing services to commercial and residential buildings. We are also always ready for emergency sewer and drain services 24/7. 

[floodbrisbane]

In this blog EFRB provide tips to prevent risk of blocked drains and benefits of sewage cleaning Brisbane that you need to know. Read now!

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

All Along the Watchtower (Chapter 13)

[Can also be read on AO3]

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 4.1 k

Warnings: Minors DNI - canon typical violence, swearing, smoking, military inaccuracies

Summary: Rory and Price start the next leg of their mission, heading to the Middle East where ties to Zorokov become that much clearer

A/N: Rory Sinclair is a dual citizen (both Canada and the UK) who's been living in the UK since she was 14. She is 28 at the time of this fic, Price is 32. This series is set in 2017 before the events of the first MW game. Rory's thoughts are bold and italicized, other italics are used for emphasis

tagging: @efingart @cassietrn @cloudofbutterflies92 @strangefable @theelderhazelnut @marivenah @nightbloodbix @la-grosse-patate @josephseedismyfather @carlosoliveiraa @finding-comfort-in-rain @simplegenius042 @voidika @quantum-lover @donotopendeadinside @rc-dragons @direwombat @peachiicherries @statichvm @clicheantagonist @v01dthefae @aceghosts @inafieldofdaisies @amalkavian @justasmolbard

opt in/out tag list

October 22, 2017 08:11 - Stirling Lines, Credenhill, Herefordshire, United Kingdom 

The mission had moved beyond what Zorokov could offer, no longer cabals and crime rings, there were confirmed ties to threats to national security. They had blocked off the pipeline that funneled the money around and eventually the filth would rise to the surface like sewage in a drain, leading them to the exact origin of the looming threat on the horizon. They had a starting place tracking where the funds for the PMC were coming in from, narrowing down sources and finding out just how tangled the web really was. 

As the helicopter touched down on the grounds of Credenhill’s courtyard, Russia was a not so distant memory that still clung in the back of Rory’s mind. Throughout the eighteen hour flight back, she had listened in to the conversations between Price and Laswell regarding where money had been flowing and by who. The Saudi shell was exactly that, something empty, a throwaway account – but it still had an owner. Discovering who it was would give them their next target, and Laswell was an unstoppable force when it came to digging through the shadier side of things, secrets that were meant to be kept hidden never would be with her around – something that in Rory’s mind was all too dangerous, considering what Price was trying to convince her to do. 

Upon stepping onto the tarmac, she had to admit it was good to be back home, no matter how short-lived. Merely a quick stopover before the real work, the real fight, was about to begin, this was her chance to grab her trusted gear that she had left behind on her first flight out. It had been waiting for her, her rifle had been waiting for her. Having a new-found vigor for the mission, she was ready for whatever would come to face her even as the bruises still stained her skin, leaving her tender.

Fog had swept in overnight through the midlands, a wet sort of cold that blanketed everything it touched, sinking into the bones and clinging to clothing, damp and thick. Pulling the collar of her sweater further up her neck, she averted the gaze of her fellow servicemen as they passed by. Hands still shoved into the pockets of her coat, the black duffel slung over her shoulder, she stormed her way from the courtyard towards the barracks. 

Price hopped off the vehicle behind her, his footfall hushed upon landing by the mist that coated the ground. A pervasive silence filled the air the same way it would amongst fresh fallen snow, even the sound of slowing blades cutting through the air had been muffled. His hoarse timbre was dampened in the quiet morning as he called out to her, “Sinclair!”

Slowing her pace, coming to a halt, she let him draw nearer. His bulk cutting through the dense cover of smoky gray, the orange glow of the end of his cigar burning its way through the water vapor that accumulated around them. “Wheels up in one hour. Get your gear and we meet back here. Understood?” His hand came to rest on her shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. Hardly the intimacy that was expected between two people who had shared a bed the previous night, but understandable considering their current predicament and location. 

“Rog’.” She gave him a quick nod and noticed the way his gaze scanned over her, taking stock of all the different marks and bruises that now blemished her appearance. “Was there something else, Captain?” Her voice took on a far more formal tone with him than it had in the last few weeks. 

Shaken loose of his appraising stare, he gave her a curt nod of the head in return. “No. Go on. You’re dismissed, Sergeant,” he said before heading off in another direction, leaving her to her own company. 

How quickly all the apparent feelings they had for one another, the tension between them, could easily dissipate. Professionals once more. Practically strangers. It shouldn’t have bothered her as much as it did that they could be like this, if they were to move forward with whatever was between them (the way Price wanted to) that was how it would always be on base, anywhere there were prying eyes, having to turn their romance on and off like a switch. Was that something she was really willing to do? It wasn’t that she was incapable, she knew she could, already used to playing up the side of herself that wasn’t haunted by the things she had seen and done, pretending to be some version of herself that knew more of joy than she really did – but was the effort really all worth it? Was this the grand romance she could put herself through hell for, or was it just going to end the way it always did, with a short ‘I’m sorry’ only to carry on with her work and to bury whatever she might have felt in the past?

Heading to her bunk, she tossed her duffel onto the bed and stripped off the civvies she had been wearing. Left standing in only her bra and underwear, she witnessed her reflection in the mirror on the other side of the room – her skin marred by shades of green, blue, red and purple without the makeup to cover it. Glancing sideways at herself, she sneered at the image looking back at her. Look a right horror. No preening or primping would solve it either. Opening her foot locker with a huff, she pulled out her combat-ready clothing and her toiletry bag and a few pairs of rolled up underwear, shoving it all into her duffel. Quickly getting dressed into her combat gear, she strapped on her tac vest and clipped her helmet onto it, finally adding the shemagh from her time in Iraq around her neck and shoulders.

Giving another glance at her reflection, she sighed, feeling more like herself. All the battered and bruised parts of her hidden by armor and layers of clothing. Protected. She wasn’t pretty or soft, not like this, not anymore. A proper soldier. She could stand a little taller, her shoulders a little more square. She didn’t need saving, she didn’t need to be kept under watchful guard. She was Sergeant Rory Sinclair, a decorated veteran who had fought on the front lines, had gotten her hands dirty, knew the ugly truth of things and still didn’t let it stop her. 

She was a survivor, always had been.

Marching out towards the waiting helicopter, rotor already beginning to spin, each cut of the blades slicing through the swirling mass of fog that had yet to burn off as the day grew older, Rory noticed Price standing nearby waiting for her arrival, his hands wrapped around the shoulder straps of his tac vest, his boonie hat back in place. Appearing before him, his unreadable stare focused on her, face not showing any specific emotion, just flat. He glanced down at the watch on his wrist and then back up at her. “You’re early.”

Rory hummed in agreement. “So are you.”

“Don’t like to keep people waiting, Sergeant. Glad to see you’re the same.”

The brim of his hat darkened his eyes just enough that she couldn’t quite make out the way he was looking at her. Her instincts were quick to point out however that the Captain apparently was still none too pleased with the way she had left things hanging. A sharp, pointed dig at the fact she hadn’t melted into his arms after his earlier advances in the safe room. 

She chose to ignore it. “I assume Laswell got a hit on our next target?”

Grunting in response, Price led her towards the open door of the helicopter with sure strides, a swagger to his step. “Shell company has ties to a Saudi oil baron currently outside of the country in the UAE. He’s not home, so he can’t stop us from knocking on the door.”

“A raid.”

Stepping up into the vehicle, he turned back to look over his shoulder at her with a smirk. “Exactly.”

Following after, she stuffed her duffel under the seat beside him, took her spot and leaned back into it. Breathing deep, the smell of cigar smoke that saturated his clothing invaded her senses, but underneath that was the heady scent of warm, musky cologne. Sitting so close, it swirled around her and she was absorbed in it, realizing she never recalled smelling it the night she had spent wrapped up in his arms. She hadn’t exactly been in the right state then to pay attention, but now, it washed over her and she found her thoughts getting fuzzy. Clearing her throat and her head, she got back down to business. “So, I assume we have backup for said raid?”

“Marines.” 

“Oh, well, I’m sure that won’t cause any international upset,” she said, the sarcasm dripping off her words. “The US isn’t afraid of stepping on anyone’s toes with a move like that?”

“Bureaucrats can’t get upset over what they don’t know about,” Price said as he clipped the cigar he pulled from his pocket and placed it to his lips, flicking open his lighter and letting the flame burn at the tip. 

“No, I suppose that’s true.”

They sat in silence, Price letting it hang before speaking once more. “How long’s it been since you were last in the desert?”

“Almost seven months now.”

“You know Arabic, yeah? Fluent, I hope.”

“Yes.” She crossed her arms over her chest and adjusted her position in her seat, a grin curling the corner of her lips. “Perhaps this time I can have you saying derogatory things without your prior knowledge.”

Giving a low chuckle, he brought the cigar to his lips and took a long drag. “Now that would make things interestin’, wouldn’t it?” The smoke streamed past his lips, the orange glow burning in his eyes through the shade of his cap. “I’d prefer if we didn’t start any international incidents ‘cause you had to be a smart ass though.”

Huffing out a laugh, she pressed her head back against the rest behind her. “Fair enough. It’ll be easier just letting you blunder the pronunciation anyway.”

His brow lifted, giving her a sideways glance without turning his head, keeping her in his periphery. “You gonna keep causing me headaches?”

“No, I just think we need to agree that while Russia was where your strength lies, we’re heading into mine.”

Sucking on his cigar hanging in a clenched jaw, his brow furrowed. “You do remember I’ve fought over there myself, yeah?”

“But you didn’t spend your entire career there like me. Unless you’ve eaten goat by a fire while swapping stories with village elders in their native language, I suggest you take at least some of my judgment on things seriously. Or is it because I’m a subordinate that it’s not good enough for you?”

“S’pose it’s ‘cause you’ve slept with me,” he muttered under his breath, his face remaining serious until it cracked, giving her a teasing smirk.

Unable to help but giggle at the implication, Rory bit her lip to stifle it from growing into a full on laugh. “Okay,” she said, nodding slowly. “I see how we’re playing now.”

Barking out a chuckle at her reaction, Price shifted smugly back into his seat, adjusting the brim of his hat.

“Fucking hell, you’ve become quite the comedian with me.” Her voice dropped so only he could hear it. “You get one little kiss and now all of a sudden the stoic soldier routine fades away, eh?”

“It was more than a little kiss –” He whispered as he leaned down towards her, looking up through his brow. 

They were inches from each other, eyes locked on one another. Invading her personal space, trying to remain the dominant force, Price waited there as if he were expecting her to make a move despite being strapped into a moving military vehicle. The smoke coiled around her, his breath fanning against her face. Did he really think she would just break regulation like that? She cocked her brow and sighed, pulling out her pack of cigarettes from her tactical pants and tapped the corner of it against her thigh. “I said I just wanted to work, not be a distraction.”

“You’re not.” His words came out bluntly, his features expressionless once more, gaze unfeeling and inscrutable. Shifting back into his seat, he crossed his arms and mirrored her position beside him. Mouth drawn tight, he bit down on the cigar he'd placed between his lips, smoke billowing from his nostrils.

“Oh, I’m not?”

“No.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not. You and I have both been through the same training. A little flirting – any feelings we might have – they aren’t getting in the way of the mission, got it?”

“Sure about that?”

“You do know you’re not the only woman I’ve ever worked with, yeah?” He shot back, head tilted and brow cocked.

Rory hummed, unconvinced. “Did you sleep with the others too?”

He growled softly, mumbling around his cigar, “Touche.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said confidently, slipping a cigarette out from the pack in her hand and placing it to her lips.

“I’m a professional, Sergeant. So are you,” he grumbled, “Stop trying your damn luck with me.”

The cigarette sat between her lips as she gave him a little salute with two fingers against her forehead, the lighter still held in her hand. 

“You’re trouble, goddammit.” He shook his head and settled back in his seat, gripping the shoulders of his vest once more with a heavy sigh.

Voice muffled as she spoke around her cigarette, it bounced on its perch upon her lip. “Bet you’re really regretting Laswell’s choice now, eh?”

“Not unless you give me a reason to, darlin’,” he said, nose scrunching with annoyance. “Don’t test my bloody patience.”

Taking a drag of her cigarette, she couldn’t help but want to keep picking at him. He had tried to make her feel small a moment ago, reminding her of her weakness, of how she apparently needed him according to his evaluation. “Did you think I was suddenly going to fawn over you because you actually admitted to having feelings for me, Price?”

The little tic of his tightening tendons in his jaw was plain as day, she was playing with fire and she knew it. If there was any way to describe the Captain it was a persistent pursuit predator – of course the way he worked would bleed into his life. The man wouldn’t know romance if it bit him in the arse, wooing certainly wasn’t his style. She already expected him to keep trying to wear her down until she would eventually give in, say yes, and he would get what he wanted. Perhaps what they both wanted…but she wasn’t able to quite so readily admit that yet. 

“Would’ve been nice if you made it easy for me.”

“You’re a special forces captain, you like the challenge.”

Price brought a hand to her upper thigh, his long fingers clenching around the meat of her,  squeezing tight. “Goddamn right I do,” he said with a low chuckle. 

October 25, 2017 22:42 - Ayad Estate, Saudi Arabia

The target’s mansion was some modern monstrosity, all concrete and glass, reflecting back the moon and the stars and the moody twilight. A massive infinity pool and gardens decorated the exterior, all well maintained, meticulously so. Multiple floors, several entrances. Fully staffed, including a personal army of guards for security. A fortress in its own right. Heavy resistance was expected as they approached the private residence under the cover of night, but the main goal was to sweep and clear threats while keeping the unarmed non-combatants alive, and to collect intel. The invading strike force made up of Marines, Price and Rory moved in separate teams, including one in an armored vehicle stationed on the road up to the front metal gates of the estate, ready to ram it down if more forceful extraction was required. 

Eyes were kept on the prize, orders whispered. “Check your shots. Let’s kick this off.”

Several members of the security detail were stationed around the perimeter, protecting the mansion from intrusion. Fully armed and wearing plate vests, these weren’t just hired security, they were well trained – likely former military themselves. Slowly pacing, their heads kept on a swivel, radios at the ready to keep in contact…

A silent night…

And then the flashbang hit.

White burning light exploded out as soldiers dressed in black combat gear climbed over the walls. Nightvision goggles strapped on, two teams stealthily made their way into the mansion, set to take it floor by floor in a clean sweep while the remaining team cleared the forces outside. 

Quick, assured steps led Rory through the mansion’s halls, following closely on the tail of Price as he led the charge. 

“Bravo 6 moving to the second floor.”

Boots thumped up the steps like thundering war drums. Sweat formed on her brow as her heart started to beat against her ribcage. A thirty room mansion wasn’t a quick process to clear, the only saving grace was that most of the staff were sent screaming upon sight, huddled over on the floor with their hands in the air in surrender rather than shooting back. Whimpering “please don’t hurt me” like their lives actually depended on it, and it broke her heart – civilians didn’t deserve to feel this sort of terror, no matter the cause.

Breaching doorways, kicking in locks, the barrel of her rifle swept from side to side as she checked her corners and cleared every other room, swapping the duty with the rotation of other members on their team. 

“On me. Rally at the stairs.”

Several more flights to go, and the closer they got to the master suite the more threats they faced, the armed assailants ramping up against them. Gun fire rang out. Art, sculptures and bodies were all torn to shreds by the bullets that flew back and forth between opposing sides. She hugged the walls, taking cover behind some hulking slab of marble. Controlling her breath as chunks of stone breezed past her, catching the strands of her hair as they flew past her head, ricocheting off her helmet like hailstones. Ducking out, her muzzle flared, bright flashes sparking in the darkened hall as dozens of bullet casings tinkled around her. Bodies dropped like flies, the polished floors stained red with blood. A sight she’d grown all too accustomed to. 

Radio chatter between Price and the team outside gave warning that the x-rays they had accounted for had been cleared on the exterior, it was just the ones hidden behind closed doors that they had to worry about now - the threat of the unexpected. 

Steadily climbing up to the top, they finally reached the last floor, and instead of multiple rooms along the corridors, there was just one large, sprawling floor. Open concept. A bedroom, an office, the bathroom practically a day spa with the amenities available. Rory sneered at the sight of so much wealth on show. She was no stranger to affluence, it was a luxurious life she became entitled to upon living with her father after her mother’s death, and with it brought old money and claims of nobility in the family tree. But this – this sort of opulence was in poor taste as far as she was concerned. 

Adding insult to injury, the guards had decided to take several of the staff as human shields in the face of danger. A poor stratagem in the wake of a unit of special forces soldiers. In an instant, a whole firing line of lifted rifles were aimed at the threat on the other side of the room, scopes all firmly planted on the figures in the dark. 

“Drop your weapons! Don’t move! Get down!” 

Orders were barked, but words meant nothing. Action did. Lives were in the balance. Her ears thundered as the blood began to flow quickly inside them. Her finger resting against the cool metal of the trigger, ready to tap it at the first flinch from the security detail. Heavy breathing filled the room from both sides, every soul was put on edge. Sweat dripped down foreheads and stung the eyes. A second felt like an eternity. 

“Drop ‘em!”

Without a second thought, Rory tapped the trigger. Aiming straight for the head of a man with a handgun pointed at the back of a middle aged woman’s skull, shuddering in fear as she wore her appointed cleaner’s uniform. Executing him before he could get a shot off. A threat dispatched, one less casualty to weigh on her conscience. 

The dead littered the floor, the survivors left covering their heads and begging to go home. Panicked voices caused a twitch to start in her fingers that begged to crawl up the length of her arm, the clench in her gut following not far behind. Memories hitting her like a punch to the solar plexus. Sobs. Wailing. That look of fear in the eyes that would stay with the victims forever, the same way it did with her. 

“Clear!”

One simple word could relieve so much tension, the adrenaline slowing its course through her body at the sound of it. Relative calm eased through her constricted veins and arteries,  a rush of air escaping her lungs like a gale force now that she could finally breathe.

“All teams: residence secure. Commence SSE.”

It didn’t take long for the full force of might to round up and collect every personal device left on the premises, every scrap of paper, or shred of information they could use. The best find of all being a personal computer detailing contracts signed with Zorokov’s PMC and proof of involvement with the shell company. All left out in the open, plain as day, the hubris on show for all to see.

Price stood hunched over the desk, his thumb dragging across his lower lip as he read into the target’s dealings. “Turns out our target is close and personal with the defense minister. Signing contracts on his behalf. Has several on the go with the PMC he’s funding.”

“Helping out his friend, Zorokov.” Rory moved closer, leaning in towards the monitor with a furrowed brow, the pale blue light glowed in her eyes. “Proxy wars. Coups. Fucking hell… Yemen? I knew tensions were rising between the Saudis and Iran, but not like this.”

Continuing to scroll through the various contracts, one caught Rory’s eye. “Wait, John. Stop.” Her hand clamped down over his on the mouse. Biting down on her lip, jaw clenched tight, she was hit with a horrible truth. “Syria,” she whispered, the air forced from her at the realization. “Iran’s expanding its presence in the region on the border against ISIS… Christ, they’re in Syria. This isn’t just some small-time dispute. A PMC hired to actively assist terrorist hostilities – that’s an act of war.”

“Right. So we head to Syria and we shut it down.”

Price said it so nonchalantly it nearly sent her head spinning. They had stumbled into the middle of a conspiracy, a proxy war made to look like a civil one, and he was ready to take it head on.

“Just like that?”

“We’ll find out where they’re headquartered and we’ll bury them. If anyone has a problem with that, they’ll have to come clean, and we both know that won’t ever happen.”

She hated how right he was. How easy it was for governments to wheel and deal and play games with one another, using each other as pawns for their own desires. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for nations to support one side of a war while also funding the apparent enemy, that was a tale as old as time – but it never stopped revolting her. The insidious nature of it all. It might have been naivete on her part to still be even remotely surprised she might stumble upon something like this herself, especially considering the things she had already been witness to in her career, but she had never learned to merely let it sit well with her.  

“So we head into the middle of an active combat zone and pretend like we’re supposed to be there, start a battle with a PMC funded by an ally nation, and drop some terrorists along the way?”

“More or less. Yeah.”

“You make that sound like it’s a normal afternoon for you.”

“It can be.” He patted her shoulder with a quick smirk. “Come on, darlin’. We got a flight to catch.”

[clonerightsagenda]

dude1818 Oh it's the *storm drains*. Those draining to a nearby creek makes sense. (I've certainly seen plenty of signs saying "don't dump, drains to river"). I thought they lost your sewage lines

Lol yeah it's not unusual for storm drains to drain into a creek, it's just that the nearby creek is a few blocks away from our boundary and so we all assumed our pipes fed into the city's somewhere along the way. Guess not!

We are trying to get clarification from the city about whether our sanitary sewage lines connect to the city but they have to somewhere, I'd think. There would be much bigger problems if our sewage and wastewater weren't getting pulled back into the city system. Still I'll be a lot happier once the city confirms that they have those on the map at least.

[vampiricgf]

oh yea lil update from when they had to remove the massive tree in the backyard it was because workers from the city's water treatment plant were here to check the sewage drain in front of my house n when they stuck a little camera down there it got caught on tree roots that grew into the pipe so they had to dig a massive fucking hole in my yard and my neighbors yard, cut the tree, and do some shit with the pipe in order to get a 100k camera back. our yard is just a fucked up dirt patch now

the construction equipment is still sitting in front of my house and the street just after my driveway is blocked off still which is so inconvenient but alas

[novaauster]

The Labyrinth

Rook has always been preoccupied with the idea of habitat.

It was born in a city and lived there eighteen years after. When it was a child, the winter would bring snow, and its father would fire up the hot tub on the back deck. Rook and its brother would sink down to their jaws in the sharp bromine water, catching ice on their tongues. The hot tub broke before the snow did, now it lays drained and fallow.

Now, winter is a rainforest. Slapping at mosquitoes and brushing off beetles and toweling off humid moisture over and over again. Rook’s home became an invasive species.

Three liters, it remembers, the first time it vacationed in the desert. If you’re going to set out into the red rock, you bring three liters in a plastic pouch on your back. You bring sunscreen, salted almonds and a charged phone. You do not go alone.

Never forget that it is someone else’s habitat.

See, Rook’s home overflows with sweat and poison ivy and a river that smells of sewage and dew. There’s nowhere to run. Last night it dreamt a hornet landed on the hollow of its throat, and its enormous stinger, flat like a lobster’s tail, slipped beneath the thin skin. It laid lurid purple eggs there, just where trachea meets bone. Tonight Rook will dream of a nest of snakes. 

The trails around the resort are well-groomed and beautiful, so much so that it doesn’t feel much different than walking around the block at home. Yes, red mesas dominate the horizon, but here there is not a pebble out of place. It picks its way carefully around prickly pears, not out of fear so much as respect, and follows the brass signs down to the trail: Labyrinth, with letters punched clean through the metal.

The strange thing about this desert is that it is room-temperature, exactly the same as a warehouse department store. Rook knows that life doesn’t require a rainforest, but it can’t shake off its home so easily. Yesterday it hiked seven miles without breaking a sweat: unnatural. Today it is tired and its parents are hiking somewhere else. 

Black igneous brackets Rook onto the path. It heard that there were lava flows around here, that there are tunnels just below the surface that have stayed there for thirty thousand years. Thirty thousand years is not long at all. 

This place was once a seafloor, it can tell by the salt. 

Meditate, says the sign labeling the labyrinth. Be at peace. Find your center. Balance your chakras. 

Rook dismisses the instruction with a derisive snort, even as a pit opens where that hornet had stung it in its dreams. This is a kitschy resort and the air outside is just as cool and dry as the hotel room, but it remembers the petroglyphs on that seven-mile hike. Spirals and stick figures of spirits rising out of the dust. A blink of an eye ago, an artist chiseled their art into black desert varnish, and then came the Mormons and the air-conditioned spas. 

Rook does understand it, that anyone would see their god in these monoliths. It still feels wrong.

Rook walks the spiral path. It listens to music on its airpods and does not meditate so much as debate the purpose of walking nowhere. People do it on treadmills all the time, it supposes. It takes twenty minutes to spiral inwards twenty feet, a painstaking dizziness, twenty minutes to examine every angle of the chair-sized rock in the center. 

Be at peace. Find your center. 

Jesus Christ. 

Rook sits on the chair-sized rock and admires the view for a while. It’s not the most comfortable place to sit, sharp edges digging through its thin hiking pants, but its feet are blistered from yesterday. Its lips are dry and the scrape of air through its nostrils makes it wonder if it will bleed the next time it sneezes. 

It takes a swig from its plastic water bottle. Way less than three liters, but Rook is barely two hundred yards from the hotel room. It reads the brass labyrinth sign again, backwards from this vantage point. etatideM, says the sign. ecaep ta eB.

A kind of fury crashes over Rook. Its ears ring.

Rook spits water onto the ground, darkening the sand like a bloodstain, spit-foam on the edges. After a moment, it pours the rest out too, water glugging out of clear plastic. Some of it splashes on Rook’s hiking shoes. 

What happens next, it thinks. Building spas and labyrinths like summer won’t come. Balance your chakras, my ass. 

The rusted, soaked sand bulges in the center. It looks like a new wellspring, about to burst, but out climbs a scorpion. Bright orange, the color of the dry rock. 

Next is a river of spindly, fingernail-sized spiders, and as the hole widens, a snake struggles free like it’s leaving its very own egg. Rook stands abruptly, brushing dust off the seat of its pants, giving the rock a cautious glance before stepping back. 

A beady-eyed gray mouse follows the snake, and the snake bites down on the larger animal with all its infant venom. The flow is not stemmed. 

Rook backs away further as the sand starts to crumble away. It steps over the igneous trail-markers, one foot in one concentric labyrinth-ring, one foot in another. What’s the point of walking nowhere? It wants to flee, it knows it has to flee from the cartoonish black widows that have begun to hunt red ants, but the animals pay Rook no mind. 

The wellspring swallows the rock Rook had rested on, and the river of animals expands heedless of the igneous markings. The river follows the path of topography instead, parting for mounds of rock, filling in footprints. 

When Rook reaches the trailhead, there is no brass sign. The resort should be in view, but instead the buildings have cocooned themselves in mesa rock and the prickly pears block the path. Rook falls to its knees, lands flat on the fleshy sun-warmed earth, and feels insects between eyelashes and the backs of its ears. 

Rook joins the river. There is life here after all.

[clatterbane]

That was fun. I woke up to what in context I was guessing were likely plumber noises. (Yep!)

Can't actually find when I posted about it the first time our persistent drain problem (which is down to the building plumbing 🙄) really needed professional intervention. But yeah, the main sewage drain has kept getting blocked up through nothing we can control, and it was pretty bad again when I went to bed.

(Weird backflow keeps blocking things up where our plumbing meets the main line. It's apparently at a terrible angle or something. We are also on the bottom floor, just to make it better.)

After working on it pretty much the whole time I was gone last night (not least with a bunch of drain cleaner, after going out yesterday evening to get more before the store closed). No luck, and we were hoping it would unblock overnight like it's done before.

No such luck. He came out this morning, and accidentally left one of the toilets running after flushing it again. (I think that needs a valve replacement or something, because it keeps sticking open and needing the flusher jiggled.) He can't really hear it when it is running, though the noise drives me crazy. Anyway, then he came back a little bit later to find nasty water starting to spill out into the hall. 😱

For context, this is indeed a basic Swedish standard wet room setup we're talking about, with a slightly sloping floor leading toward a big floor drain that the bathtub empties into and a lip at the threshold.

Every previously dry towel in the house is heaped in the tub now. He has actually gone to IKEA to buy more, because Out Of Towels Error. Those sodden filthy ones will also need to be hauled to the basement laundry room whenever we can book a time. 😩

That's how we get Sewage Lake going whenever that drain backs up. It just comes up that floor drain under the tub.

Similar deal in the current wreck of a small bathroom, though it doesn't have a floor drain which is why there is still some standing water after the plumber came. Otherwise a wet room setup, and (thankfully cleaner) water managed to start overflowing the sill because that was the stuck-running toilet culprit.

At any rate, he saw that little flood and was going "oh shit, we really need a plumber STAT!" when apparently some essentially condo association staff person came a'knockin' to see if we had a leak. Because someone had already reported water dripping in the laundry room right under us.

So yeah, at least this time they did arrange to get a plumber in stat! Dude apparently had to pump the horrible water out into an outdoor drain, and no wonder they were here so long.

The blockage did get successfully rooted out, and Mr. C already cleaned the big bathroom floor out with bleach so it's vaguely usable. The small one still has a bit of standing water for the moment, because Out Of Towels Error. I may have to thoroughly clean them both myself before my actual OCD feels relatively OK with not treating them like particularly nasty public restrooms in my own house.

With the disgusting flood actually breaching containment and leaking through outside our apartment, hopefully this will make them more inclined to fix that plumbing junction which is causing the issue. Can't say I'm holding my breath, though. 🤨 This has to be a long-term thing already, and I would be amazed if previous owners hadn't kept having the exact same issue. And possibly getting nasty floor water dripping down to the laundry room, which frankly may have been considered lower priority since it isn't somebody else's apartment under there.

[jasonhouck]

Understanding the Core Services of a Newport Beach Plumbing Company

When people think about Newport Beach, the stunning coastline and surfing spots may immediately come to mind. However, behind those attractions lies an intricate network of water and sewage systems that make everyday life seamless and comfortable. At the heart of ensuring efficiency and functionality of these systems are the professionals from a Newport Beach plumbing company.

The Essential Role of Plumbers

In a region as populous and dynamic as Newport Beach, reliable plumbing services play a critical part in maintaining comfort, hygiene, health, and even safety. Experienced plumbers can address complex concerns related to water heating systems, pipelines, drains, septic tanks and more – tasks that would otherwise be risky or challenging for ordinary people.

Broad Range of Services

A seasoned Newport Beach plumbing company won't just specialize in mending leaking sinks or unclogging toilets. The breadth of their services is usually wide-ranging - from preventative maintenance to extensive repair or large-scale installation projects.

For instance, homeowners who find deleterious substances in their tap water can reach out to these companies for water quality solutions. They assist clients with installing water softeners or filtration systems to ensure safe and clean drinking water.

Similarly, homes experiencing issues with their hot water supply can rely on them for efficient fixes. These experts discern whether your heating system entails repairs or replacements by thoroughly diagnosing it before suggesting required solutions.

They're also well-versed in mitigating concerns directly tied to California's climatic features like installing sewer lines safer against seismic activities.

Emergency Plumbing Solutions

When critical plumbing issues arise at inappropriate times – such as late-night pipe bursts or blocked drains causing flooding – it is crucial to have immediate access to professional help. A responsible Newport Beach plumbing company understands that swift response to emergency situations determines mitigation success. With round-the-clock service availability, they ensure relief from urgent plumbing complications without a stressful wait.

Work Ethic and Business Approach

Experienced Newport Beach plumbers not only offer technical expertise but are committed to delivering quality customer service. Valuing transparency, they provide clients with clear, comprehensible estimates before starting any work to prevent surprise costs at the end of a job. They respect customers’ properties by leaving it clean after service. 

Trustworthy plumbers in Newport Beach also prioritize safety by strictly adhering to professional standards and local codes during operations. This adherence ensures the longevity of their work while keeping residents safe – an essential factor to consider when choosing your plumbing partner.  

Wrapping Up: The Hampton Bay Plumbing Company Impact

The utility and versatility of services from a reliable Newport Beach plumbing company cannot be over-emphasized. These businesses help preserve the integrity of both residential and commercial buildings in the area, ensuring comfortable and efficient living for inhabitants.

From providing scheduled repairs and maintenance, handling large-scale installations, offering disaster-proof solutions according to local dynamics to being available during emergencies - these professionals make significant contributions in keeping Newport Beach flowing smoothly every day.

All said, when picking a Newport Beach plumbing company, remember that their range of services ought to cover your specific needs alongside servicing with integrity driven by industry standards for more sustainable results.

ePIPE - Pipe Restoration Inc. Address: 2926 W Pendleton Ave, Santa Ana, California, 92704 Phone: (714) 888-7758

[activerooter9]

Best Sewer Repair Services, OH, and Active Rooter Plumbing & Drain

Active Rooter Plumbing & Drain provides you with the best sewer repair services. In Ohio, Active Rooter Plumbing & Drain is the best option for sewage repair services. Our committed staff guarantees excellent repairs that are completed quickly and precisely.

[affordableplumbergrandprairie]

Affordable Plumber Grand Prairie TX

Plumber Grand Prairie TX

Plumbing problems aren’t new to most people especially those who have lived in their homes for a while. What is new is Plumber Grand Praire’s customer-centered approach to doing things, which most customers love. We are a 24-hour service that is readily available to help you any day, 7 days a week.  

Grand Prairie Plumbing Repair :-

When you need plumbing repair our plumbers will be at you residence quickly if you live in Zip Codes 75050, 75051, 75052, 75053, 75054, which we serve. There are many reasons you would need a good plumber. Your toilet might be backed up or your sewer may be overflowing. Whether you need help to repair leaks in the kitchen, bathroom or shower, our plumbing service is one of the fastest in town and one that most people call if they need help quickly. Easy accessibility is critical when you need help urgently, which could happen for example if you have a serious water leak, or sewage backup.  

Reputation is critical when you want a plumbing company that can deliver services to you without compromising on quality. We aim at offering our customers with the highest quality services that are hard to find elsewhere. Our highly skilled plumbers provide you with value for your money as well.

WE ARE AVAILABLE AND READY TO HELP OUR CUSTOMERS 24 HOURS A DAY, 7 DAYS A WEEK.

In case you need Drain Cleaning, what is the best service to call than a locally based plumber who takes care of their customers just like a good neighbor? If you need help clearing a blocked drain, we can provide this assistance to you. We take out the stress that you might be feeling by providing you with the help that you need quickly. Plumber Grand Prairie TX 972-891-8031 313 E Pioneer Pkwy Grand Prairie, TX 75053 Available All Days: From 7:00 am to 8:00 pm

[drainexpertnepal]

Kitchen sink jam cleaner in Nepal | Kitchen sink Installation and Repair. Call: 9765355755

When you are looking for a professional Kitchen sink jam cleaning service in Kathmandu, Bhaktapur and Lalitpur districts, you can consider contacting the Drain Expert Nepal. We have the latest tools and technologies to unclog the toughest clogs in your kitchen sink drain pipe.

Our drain plumbers are highly trained and experienced to repair the broken or leaking sink and basin and also can install new kitchen sinks.

[soundwavemain]

We've Still Got Hope

Chapter 9: Rest Easy

Casey Jones never had soft hands. At least, Junior didn’t think so. She always gave him her hand to hold whenever he needed an anchor. During his first checkup, whenever he woke up from a nightmare–she was there to lend comfort. He found solace in tracing the lines of her palms, a curve here, two there. She had a patch of rough skin on her index finger–a callus from flipping weapons back and forth–that Junior would always touch.

“That’s what happens when you’re a great ninja like me,” she told him one night when he was young. He barely reached her knee but he knew he wanted to be just like her.

Now, he was seven and he didn’t know if he’d ever be as good as her. His family always said he was his mother’s kid–rambunctious, never keeping still. He watched her lead them down an abandoned sewer tunnel, her head held high despite the fact they were below ground in unfamiliar territory. Could he be that brave? A reliable face in the apocalypse?

The one time he tried to do something to protect his family–

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sewer tunnels still had water in them despite no one using the sewage system for a little over a decade now. It was stagnant and it didn’t smell particularly good but no one else seemed to be bothered by it so Junior tried his best to ignore it.

There were three knuckles to a finger, two for the thumb. The wrist had eight bones. He dragged his thumb across her pulsepoint and tried to remember the names. Donnie had explained it to him once. He struggled to pull the information from the recesses of his mind.

Right, right, left, straight–

Casey seemed to know where they were going. Every so often she’d turn and whisper to April about something. Donnie was starting to wake up. His voice, deep from sleep, bounced against the walls. He reached over April’s shoulder to snatch his tech brace, sliding it back onto his forearm. The screen lit up his face, dimmed, then brightened again.

Beep.

Beep. Beep.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Junior kept his head down, pressing closer and closer to his mother’s side as they reached an abnormal section of the sewers. It seemed like a place where stormwater drained since it opened up wide above them. The walls were cracked, fallen debris blocking off several paths but there seemed to be evidence of people living here. Light filtered through grates, the sudden change hurting his eyes. He blinked once, then twice to make sure he was seeing correctly.

Floating about was Mikey like he hadn’t a care in the world. He had his arms out, hands ringed by orange light as he grunted with the force of moving a pile of rocks. He flung them to the other side of the pipe like they weighed next to nothing. When he turned around, the only indication that he was surprised by the others was a slight exhale that seemed to echo in the silence. Then he smiled, a wide grin wrinkled his cheeks, and he floated forward.

“You guys made it.” He spoke softly, unlike his normal boisterous personality, but his eyes still sparkled with mirth. He reached out for a hug and Junior found himself stumbling forward as a great need to embrace his uncle possessed him. Mikey swept him up into his arms easily and it felt like coming home. Junior tucked his face against his uncle’s neck, curling inward as Mikey continued. “I was worried when you called for a portal.” He shifted his nephew so he was tucked against his elbow.

“The kraang found us,” Casey answered. She didn’t bother whispering. Junior curled further into a ball. “Are you sure we’re safe here?”

“Donald?”

Donnie hummed. Two soft taps came from behind as the softshell turtle finally slid off April’s back. “There should be enough asphalt, concrete, and dirt to block whatever it is they’re using to track us. For now,” he paused to yawn, “I wanna work on security.”

“Fine but the rest of you are going straight to bed,” Mikey ordered. “I’ve been clearing the rooms since I got here.”

“Where is here, exactly?” Casey asked, next to them.

“Surprised you don’t recognize it, Jones.” There was a grunt, then a slap and a yowl. “Ouch. Okay. Still not touchy-feely, I get it. This is our old lair.”

Junior peeked out to see Leo staring at the crumbling walls, his gaze filled with a sort of yearning not unlike his own. A desire to go home only to know it was simply impossible.

“I thought Shredder destroyed this place.”

Mikey laughed. The vibrations tickled Junior’s side. He leaned into the feeling, pressing his hand against his uncle’s plastron. “I teleported to the safest place I could. My mystic hands thought that was here, apparently. Now, go. Shoo! I know you three haven’t slept. Donnie’s the only one smart enough to listen to his body.” There was a cacophonous grumbling as Leo, Casey, and April were sent away by the second youngest person in the room. When they finally left, Mikey looked down at Junior, his gaze impossibly gentle. “What about you, little warrior?”

If he was being honest, Junior hadn’t slept well all week. His eyes stung and his head pounded from exhaustion. But he knew that if he tried to rest now–

Two yellow eyes, glowing like lanterns as a dangerously melodic hum filled the air.

“Can I stay out here?” he squeaked.

“Course,” Mikey answered immediately, though his gaze seemed to burn into the back of Junior’s head. “Wanna talk about it?”

And wasn’t that just the million dollar question? Did Junior want to talk about it? The grief and anger and defeat that festered inside him told him, No, he didn’t need to say anything. Another part of him, the part that wanted desperately to hold onto his family, told him that he simply needed to be their hope.

A quiet chirp brought Junior back to the conversation at hand. His uncle knocked their heads together gently, the wisps of his hair tickling Junior’s face. “It’s okay,” Mikey soothed. “If you’re not feeling well, that’s okay.”

Not feeling well was what they used to say when Junior was a toddler. When his heart couldn’t keep up with all he needed it to. When he couldn’t explain how he was feeling other than a quiet exhale and an even quieter, “Hurts.”

It made Junior feel small. He looked down at his hands. They’d been soft for as long as he could remember. Even the scrapes that roughed up his palms had healed, peeling away to reveal fresh skin. The pink skin mocked him–a reminder that he was different. That no one else was like him. He’d made peace with the fact that he shared no physical attributes with his aunt or uncles–hell, his father– He knew since he was young. Yet, it didn’t stop the horrible pit in his stomach at the reminder that even his mother looked nothing like him.

Then there was the scaly texture of Mikey’s fingers pressing against his forehead. “Dr. Feelings can’t help you, little warrior.” His uncle’s smile seemed to brighten the whole room. “Not unless you start talking.” Mikey offered his hand, palm up.

Pale green cracks went from his fingertips to his wrists. Junior found himself tracing them before he could think to hold back. They didn’t feel any different than the surrounding skin.

“I got these from saving Raph,” Mikey answered the question plaguing his nephew’s thoughts. “This happened way before you were in the picture.” He shifted his arm to show how the lines centered around the pulsepoint on his wrist. “Mystic powers require a balance of cosmic energy. For every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction,” he said, brow set in a firm line. Then he relaxed, smiling again. “That’s what Don’d say, anyway.” Mikey closed his eyes and it was suddenly so apparent to Junior how old his uncle was.

The box turtle was the youngest adult in their group. The wrinkles that creased his brow and chin, however, told a different story. They spoke of an undying worry that followed the mystic warrior for the past sixteen years. Perhaps even longer.

Together, they leaned against the wall, Mikey curling a protective arm around his nephew. “It was a rescue mission gone wrong,” he explained. “A labor camp the kraang rigged to blow. They wanted us gone. Barry and Raph were in there, in two wings of the building. Barry went to try dismantling the bomb. Raph went to rescue the humans.” His eyes grew misty as he stared at his hands. “Barry taught me everything he knew about mystic powers. Said I had a knack for it. But there was only so much I could do–can do. I had a choice to make.”

He hummed, rocking his nephew side to side. Junior looked up at Mikey. His gaze appeared distant, like he wasn’t fully in the present. “Between Barry and Dad?”

“Between my brother and my creator. My dad.” Mikey paused in his movements. “I already lost one.”

Junior’s heart pulsed, a sharp, visceral pain he knew his uncle must’ve felt. “You were gonna lose another?”

“Well,” Mikey hummed. “It’s a simple answer to a simple question. Raph was with at least a hundred people in need of rescue. You kill the one to save the many.”

“But…” The words stuck in Junior’s throat. He pushed onward. “But it hurt.”

At first, his uncle said nothing. The distant sounds that marked Donnie’s work in another room barely filled the silence. Then, when he finally spoke up, Mikey’s voice had a rasp to it. “Of course,” he whispered. “Of course, it hurt but I knew that if I did nothing, it would be worse. Because of my decision, a hundred people were saved. My brother got to live to see his kid.” Mikey cupped his nephew’s cheek, his smiling face filling Junior’s vision. “If there’s anything that this stupid apocalypse has taught me, it’s that you can’t go around regretting your decisions. It’ll eat you alive. You have to see what is on the horizon and keep moving forward. These,” he gestured to the marks on his hand, “are a reminder of the lives I saved, of the pride Barry must’ve felt teaching me to be a hero. I’ll carry that with me for the rest of my life.”

Junior stared at his hands. “Isn’t it heavy?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” Mikey answered honestly. “But your family can help if you let them.”

Raph came to mind–Junior’s thoughts tended to drift there ever since–his face downturned, voice cracking as he reassured his son that he was going to save him. That moment seemed to replay in Junior’s head on repeat, his vision always fading away with the final words he told his father.

“I’m sorry.”

Why had he apologized then? Had he truly given up so quickly? His family didn’t raise a quitter. How come he’d been ready to die then? He should’ve fought harder, worked harder, tried with more urgency to convince his father to leave in the first place. Instead, he–

“I wish he was here,” Junior finally said, his throat tightening at the mere idea.

“That’s normal,” Mikey assured him, hugging him closer. “Loss makes us yearn for things. You miss his hugs, don’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

His uncle hummed. “Raph gives the best hugs. Big, strong arms, he has the perfect grip. It’s natural for you to want something that reminds you of him.”

But he wasn’t here.

Junior curled into a ball. He wished he was like his uncles–able to hide inside their shells. Mikey separated from the wall, his nephew still in his arms. Together, they floated along. Junior kept his face tucked away until Mikey poked him. He shook his head, burrowing further against his uncle’s plastron. He was surprised when Mikey set him down in what must have been the softest cot he’d ever felt. That wasn’t even the most surprising thing about the cot–it smelled just like Raph. Junior reached out to inspect the bedding and was met with something cold and hard. He sat up, curious.

A tall, green figure met his gaze. It was surrounded by balls of fluff shaped like animals Mikey had taught him about. Junior reached for its face. He shivered as his warm palm met the cool metal of the plate armor. The spikes, the red accents–it was Raph. Or, at least, a robot version of him. Junior knew it wasn’t his father. His dad would’ve felt him crawling on him, would’ve awakened instantly and scooped him up. This direct copy was one step removed from the Hamato Raphael.

It wasn’t real, he told himself. This wasn’t his father.

He crawled into the robot’s lap, the arms curved to rest on its knees. Junior shivered at the difference in temperature. He snatched a fluffball from the pile–a giant penguin about his height–and hugged it. He curled into a ball, pressing against an arm as he closed his eyes.

“Dad,” he spoke softly, “I’m gonna nap here with you, if you don’t mind.”

No response.

Not that Junior expected one.

...

The world filled out slowly around Junior. His eyelids peeled apart to stare at the metal in front of him. He had slept peacefully for the first time in weeks, a dreamless rest that he welcomed with open arms. Crawling off the robot, Junior stood and stretched, the penguin still in his grasp. He turned to stare at the armor made in his father’s image.

“You made a choice,” he whispered, “didn’t you?”

Raph stared back at him, face blank.

“Between you and me.” He hugged the penguin close to his chest. “It hurts,” he finally admitted aloud, his cheeks becoming wet. “But I’m happy.” His voice choked on the word, as if even his body couldn’t accept the idea. “I’m trying to be happy,” he immediately corrected, “for you. Because you wanted me to live and be with our family. Because you fought for me.” The penguin’s downy coat matted from his tears. “I won’t stop feeling sorry that you’re not here instead of me, that I lived and you didn’t, but I’m not going to regret your decision. Or mine.”

Junior turned toward the entrance of the room. It was a red curtain that surely didn’t keep any sounds outside from seeping in. He paused. Once he left this room, he didn’t think he could return. It wouldn’t be good to reopen the wound. He looked back at the robot. It seemed almost peaceful.

“I’m gonna take one of your friends,” he called out. “Hope you don’t mind. I love you, Dad.” There wouldn’t be a response, he made his peace with that. He didn’t need one. He knew his father loved him.

He walked through the unfamiliar halls, following the sounds of his family talking. They were easy to find. Their voices weren’t hushed at all and they seemed to ricochet in the empty rooms. He found them gathered around a table with a map on it. They seemed to be discussing something. From the deep crease in Leo’s forehead and the firm line of Donnie’s brow, it must’ve been serious. They trailed off the moment they noticed Junior standing at the entrance.

Mikey smiled. “Wanna join us, little warrior?”

Junior observed his family. They were like open books to him. Reading their body language was second nature to him. They wanted him there with them.

He took a step forward.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[iamazadkhan]

India's Water Scarcity Expected To Get More Severe By 2050: UN Report

Pic Source: https://www.circleofblue.org/2019/india/groundwater-plummets-in-delhi-city-of-29-million/

To Start the Discussion

The nation that pumps the most groundwater has come to terms with its food and water security, which threatens to undermine political and economic stability as well as long-term public health. Circle of Blue uncovers how a nation of 1.3 billion people is inviting disease, economic suffering, and social instability by neglecting to safeguard its water in this special report, which builds on years of on-the-ground reporting. This post is included with the assumption on India's Water Scarcity Expected to Get More Severe By 2050. Have a look on the discussion for detailed information. A food supply "toxic time bomb" with global repercussions goes hand in hand with the depletion and poisoning of groundwater. Farmers use untreated wastewater that is mixed with sewage and industrial chemicals when irrigation wells run dry. The water changed from sustaining life to claiming it, as one villager put it.

A Wide Range of Issues

Delhi is making an effort to meet the demands of tens of millions of people by building new infrastructure on top of water systems that were created centuries ago, like other worldwide megacities, some of which are the size of small nations. Historically, the city relied on a network of check dams, step wells, and natural drains for its water supply. In this arrangement, rainwater was collected during the monsoon season and used all year round. Its historic network was neglected as a result of the metro area's recent decades of rapid growth, which has seen its population surpass 29 million, according to the UN. The majority of the city's natural drainage systems have been covered over or blocked by rubbish. Either lakes or other bodies of water have dried up, or they are now clogged with trash and other pollution. According to Upmanu Lall, a professor at Columbia University and the head of the Columbia Water Center, "Sewers, where they exist, release untreated or inadequately treated water," he told Circle of Blue. According to Lall, seasonal floods also disperses toxins throughout the city's water supply. "There are many places that flood when there are no sewage systems, mobilizing everything on the ground." Delhi's surface water is in poor condition as well. The Yamuna River, a tributary of the Ganges, is used by locals for drinking, bathing, and washing. However, the river is a poisonous brew of industrial chemicals, agricultural runoff, and sewage. According to a recent study, 1,500 unlicensed slums' worth of sewage and feces are dumped right into the Yamuna. The government-owned Delhi Jal Board is in charge of managing the city's water distribution system. Eighty-one percent of Delhi households have some access to piped water, though the supply—which comes from the Yamuna River and the ground—isn't always dependable or clean. The water that enters the pipes frequently leaks out. Water loss in the city might reach 40% as a result of theft and leakage. Approximately 625,000 households do not have any connection to the city pipelines, according to the 2011 Census. These homes are mostly found in slums or unofficial settlements.

Closing the Discourse

Borewells or tanker trucks are used by millions of residents who are not adequately supplied by the city's water distribution system or are excluded from it. Illegal borewells are commonplace across the city, with some of them extending more than 120 meters. According to a report from March 2018, 15 of Delhi's 27 administrative divisions "overexploit" groundwater. There are additional variables at play in Delhi's impending groundwater issue besides illegal groundwater extraction. According to Lall, the Delhi metropolitan region includes its own capital territory and is bordered by the states of Uttar Pradesh and Haryana, both of which regularly pump considerable amounts of groundwater for domestic use. The region's water users as a whole are taking groundwater more quickly than it is naturally replenishing. Read the full article