Confessions of a Killer

I bought my house about 11 years ago as a HUD-Repossession; which, of course, means you get it in “as is” conditions. The first thing I did once I moved in was hire a home inspector to come out and tell me what needed to be fixed and how urgent it was that I do it. Turns out, I actually got a really good deal; the house was in fairly good shape for being 20 years old, and had been well maintained.

One of the items on the list of things to fix to was the exterior paint. Paint is really only good for maybe 5 years, and the inspector told me that my paint looked to be around 10 years old.

It took me a couple more years to save up the money, but finally I was able to afford to have a contractor come and paint my house. Since he was going to be up on ladders all over the house anyway, I told him to go ahead and replace all the rain gutters while he was at it.

The contractor I hired was an innovative sort of fellow who suggested a slight change in plan on the gutters. Instead of coming down the right side of the house and draining off down the driveway into the city’s storm drain system, he suggested that I should have the gutters come down on the left side of the house. He would then bury the gutter under my lawn, using a perforated pipe that runs about 4 feet underground for about 10 feet in length, thereby using the rainwater to hydrate the lawn more effectively.

Well, I just thought that was a super idea! I eagerly agreed to his plan, and within a week I not only had a beautiful “new” house (the new paint job freshened up the place wonderfully) but also a new “green” gutter system!

What I did not realize was that I had just become… an Earthworm Killer.

The first good rain of the season showed me soon enough, though. It had the evidence displayed out in the open, right where the whole neighborhood could see.

When I opened the garage door that morning, a horrific sight greeted my eyes. Hundreds of dead and dying earthworms were all over my driveway! They had been flooded out of the yard and crawled up to the perceived safety of the concrete – only to be killed by the hot, burning sun.

Frantically I ran up and down my driveway, trying to rescue as many as I could. I’m positive my neighbors think I’m that “weird old lady,” the one with too many cats, the one that all the children are afraid of and dare each other to run up and knock on the door, who must surely be senile to be running around crying each morning, frantically picking up earthworms and re-depositing them on the up-hill side of her front lawn.

And wouldn’t you know it – that year was a wet one. I am ashamed to say I killed many an earthworm that summer. I tried so hard not to, even going so far as to park down at the bottom of the hill on the side of the road so that the tires of my car would not add to the death toll.

Heck, I even transported a load of earthworms out to Mother’s farm, in Palmer. Surely they would be much happier out there with the chickens, the horses, and the gardens; and I would feel less guilty knowing that at least some of my precious earthworms had been saved.

Thankfully, after a year or so, the lawn got used to the influx of water and I saw less evidence of my killing ways. Either that or all the earthworms moved on to the relative safety of the next door neighbor’s yard.

Either way, I am proud to say that I have not purposely killed an earthworm in many years. The whole event has scarred me for life, though. Never again will I look at my rain gutters with pride. They will forever be the instrument of my unintentional killing spree that summer.