Gryph
Aquarium Advice Regular
I was living in the Dark Ages.
I thought that I had it handled. So clever, I thought. I saved a cat litter bucket, and ten one-gallon jugs which used to hold iced tea from the store. With these, I performed water changes using a common gravel vacuum from Wal-Mart. Low expense! We don't need any of those fancy modern things with the high price tags. Pure silliness, those.
Of course, I had a few mishaps. The bucket did overflow occasionally, especially if I wasn't watching it. My husband found this reasonably annoying, especially given the quantity of computer equipment we have. So I started hanging the hose out the sliding glass door when I could. It drained right outside! No bucket needed!
I began to develop a hump on my back, similar to Quasimodo, from stooping over to fill iced tea jugs in the bathtub. My shoulders grew muscular, but my back ached. The jugs cluttered up the room. The kids kept tripping over the cat litter bucket.
Then, the fateful night arrived. Last night. As I drained water from the big Tanganyikan tank, I had to run out of the room a moment. My son came in from outside, dislodging the siphon drain hose from where I had squashed it in the door. It began draining all over the floor.
My husband discovered this small Lake Tanganyika before I did. He didn't shout, neither did he glare. He helped me sop it up. Then he gave me a sweet, loving smile and said, "Christmas is coming early for you, hon. Tomorrow. I know exactly what to get for you."
Today, we ventured to Petsmart. He walked directly to the gravel vacuum aisle, as I pestered the aquarium lackey for a plant. After a moment, he came back with a 50' Python, shiny and new, wrapped in a package. He carted it up to the cash register, paid for it (and my plant), then, as we stood outside the door, he solemnly handed it to me.
"Merry Christmas," he said.
Oh, the glory! The angels sang as I hooked it up to the sink. The water drained itself out, and filled itself up! No muss, no fuss, no tiny Tanganyika. Pure bliss, so fast, no buckets, no hunchback! What a marvelous thing, this serpentine piece of plastic hose. I laughed with glee at the wonders of modern engineering.
I have lived in the Dark Ages. I have done six gallon water changes by the bucket, followed by two fours and two twos. I have broken my back, toiled and sweated, and all because of my hide-bound ways.
I have a Python. I have joy. Better...I have dry carpeting.
I thought that I had it handled. So clever, I thought. I saved a cat litter bucket, and ten one-gallon jugs which used to hold iced tea from the store. With these, I performed water changes using a common gravel vacuum from Wal-Mart. Low expense! We don't need any of those fancy modern things with the high price tags. Pure silliness, those.
Of course, I had a few mishaps. The bucket did overflow occasionally, especially if I wasn't watching it. My husband found this reasonably annoying, especially given the quantity of computer equipment we have. So I started hanging the hose out the sliding glass door when I could. It drained right outside! No bucket needed!
I began to develop a hump on my back, similar to Quasimodo, from stooping over to fill iced tea jugs in the bathtub. My shoulders grew muscular, but my back ached. The jugs cluttered up the room. The kids kept tripping over the cat litter bucket.
Then, the fateful night arrived. Last night. As I drained water from the big Tanganyikan tank, I had to run out of the room a moment. My son came in from outside, dislodging the siphon drain hose from where I had squashed it in the door. It began draining all over the floor.
My husband discovered this small Lake Tanganyika before I did. He didn't shout, neither did he glare. He helped me sop it up. Then he gave me a sweet, loving smile and said, "Christmas is coming early for you, hon. Tomorrow. I know exactly what to get for you."
Today, we ventured to Petsmart. He walked directly to the gravel vacuum aisle, as I pestered the aquarium lackey for a plant. After a moment, he came back with a 50' Python, shiny and new, wrapped in a package. He carted it up to the cash register, paid for it (and my plant), then, as we stood outside the door, he solemnly handed it to me.
"Merry Christmas," he said.
Oh, the glory! The angels sang as I hooked it up to the sink. The water drained itself out, and filled itself up! No muss, no fuss, no tiny Tanganyika. Pure bliss, so fast, no buckets, no hunchback! What a marvelous thing, this serpentine piece of plastic hose. I laughed with glee at the wonders of modern engineering.
I have lived in the Dark Ages. I have done six gallon water changes by the bucket, followed by two fours and two twos. I have broken my back, toiled and sweated, and all because of my hide-bound ways.
I have a Python. I have joy. Better...I have dry carpeting.
