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July 2, 2006
I Don't Have a Pool
A cautionary tale.
Okay, Chicklets. Before we begin, I have to say that there are going to be a fair amount of f-bombs in attendance here this morning. It's okay. It's all right. I'm still carefully straddling the line between bad taste and no taste, but for those of you with sensitive...
Oh. Right. These are Chicklets I'm talking to. Sorry. Silly me. Forget it.
So. Anyway. I wanted to talk to you about my pool. Except I don't have a pool.
I have a fucking pool.
You know, when we went looking for houses, I specifically didn't want a pool. They're like carefully groomed French Poodles; way too much work for way too little payoff. In Central New York, we have maybe six to eight prime swimming weeks out of the year; it's just not worth it. Plus, I don't want anything - vermin or otherwise - accidentally falling into my pool and meeting its end. I know this is completely unreasonable, pools are fairly safe as long as you keep the gate locked, but I have a mind like a sieve and Fish... well, he's not a details guy. When details require us to remember to take out the garbage and we forget, it's annoying. When details require us to remember to lock up the gate on the pool so our kids don't accidentally drown, it raises my stress from the average, everyday how-am-I-going-to-pay-this-bill? type levels to super-sized lion-chasing-me-in-the-wilds-and-I-need-a-new-loincloth levels.
So, yeah. I had my reservations. But still. The rest of the house was perfect, so I decided, "Hey, we'll do one season with a pool, see how it goes. How bad could it be?" Of course, you never realize when you're saying, "How bad could it be?" that it's like a beacon to Universe saying, "Would you come down here and screw with me, please? Just a little? Because I'm a tad too secure with myself at the moment. Thanks ever so."
It all starts with opening the pool. Which I thought meant...
Sorry, what's that? Oh. Yes, you're right. Silly me. I don't have a pool.
I have a fucking pool.
So, where was I? Yes. I thought opening the fucking pool meant taking the cover off and jumping in. It makes sense, right? I mean, that's what people do with ponds and oceans and stuff. God isn't there saying, "Oh, wait. Let me just add a touch more chlorine." No. You dives in and you takes your chances.
But noooooo. Not with a fucking pool. With a fucking pool, you have to take the cover off (easy enough) and then attach all manner of pumps and filters and defibrillators and nuclear reactors and then you have to go to Pool Haven and talk to Natalie repeatedly for days on end because the pump won't turn on and the skimmer's cracked (fixed it with duct tape, yes duct tape, it's purple and pretty and it's kinda staunched the flow) and endless issues that prevent the actual opening of the pool. Meanwhile, my children are running around the dry yard with their pool toys. Trust me, there's nothing sadder than watching two little girls try to enjoy the swingset with deflating floatie animals around their bellies.
Thank God for Natalie from Pool Haven, though. She's unbelievably patient. And when I say patient, I mean saints have nothing on this woman. As proof, I offer you these snippets of our actual conversations:
Natalie: So, what size is your pool?
Me: It's above-ground.
Natalie: Okay. How many gallons?
Me:
Natalie: Do you know how big the diameter is?
Me:
*********
Natalie: What kind of filter do you have?
Me: I don't know. What kind does everyone else have?
Natalie: Well.... a lot of people have sand.
Me: Sure. Let's go with that.
********
Me: The skimmer's cracked.
Natalie: Okay. Is it a wide-mouth skimmer?
Me:
********
Natalie: Do you know how to shock the pool?
Me: Pull up a chair and tell it the story of how I lost my virginity?
Natalie:
********
Natalie: Now, what this product does is lower your level of (something the fucking pool needs; I was starting to blank out at that point.) But I don't know if you're really going to need--
Me: I don't care if I need it. Just sell it to me. I've been running errands in service to this pool for three days now. Just sell it to me.
(Yeah. I know. I don't have a pool. But I didn't want to offend poor Natalie. I think she's been through enough, don't you?)
Okay. So, now you should have some sense of what poor Natalie has been through in the last few days, as well as what I've been through. Suffice it to say that the pump had diva issues, the filter was not a sand filter, and the vacuum kept flipping me off while running around the fucking pool just out of reach and taunting me with, "Suction? What is zeees suction of wheeech you speeeek? I have no suction for you, you panywaisted troglodyte."
(Yes. My fucking pool vacuum is French. I have no idea why.)
So. Here we are. The morning of Day Four of Lani vs. The Fucking Pool. Today will consist of me continuing to trade senseless insults with the fucking pool vacuum, testing the water for all manner of chemical sassiness, and probably two phone calls and at least one visit to Natalie, who works seven days a week and will probably spend every spare moment today - should she have one - looking up "medical transcription courses" on the internet.
Because anything has to be better than dealing with me and my fucking pool, right?
Right.
***note*** Some names have been changed to protect the innocent. But the vacuum really is French.
Posted by Lani at 6:33 AM | Comments (13)
Comments
hahahahaha! Sorry to hear about your fucking pool. Thanks for sharing the tale. Hope you get it all worked out.
Posted by: KimW at July 2, 2006 10:35 AM
Lani, you're on the wrong coast. The Left Coast is the Best Coast, and we here in CA can use our pools pretty near all year long. Makes those battles less fraught when you've got that much more time in the water.
I feel for you, Lani. I honestly do. I hate it when they ask those questions, and you feel like an idiot for not realizing they'd want to know. Do that more often than I like admitting. You'll lick it, then you and the gang can start to have some fun in the pool.
Posted by: ZaZa at July 2, 2006 2:06 PM
Zaza--
West side represent!
Lani--
I know exactly how you feel. When we moved into our Wisteria-Lane-meets-Brady-Bunch neighborhood, I specifically wanted a house sans pool. But apparently, they didn't make those in 1960's Arizona, so we have a ginormous (yes, I said ginormous) kidney-shaped inground pool. Mr. Tall is responsible for all upkeep and maintence. He actually kind of likes it now--he can shock and check pH levels and fix the vaccuum and unclog the filter. I'll send him right over to your place--he'll whup that French vacuum's derriere in no time. The price you will pay, however, is listening to a long, dissertation-style monologue on how he takess uch good care of the pool, you'd think his wife would trust him to treat a golf cart with the same diligent respect...
B.
Posted by: Beth at July 2, 2006 3:29 PM
hey lani,
sad to hear about your pool story, they are really tricky, but cause i live in central cali it gets so hot that out pool is our savior. we have a pool guy so we dont have to do the messy stuff. good luck!!!!!
britt
Posted by: brittney at July 2, 2006 6:49 PM
Ah, Britt has the right idea. "Pool guy" brings all sorts of images to mind and all of them good! *evil grin* Shock is a lovely thing to have on hand--any time the water is starting to look cloudy or green, you throw a bag of Shock into the water and it spanks it good and hard and presto! Clear water! Above ground pools are a pain in the butt--the vinyl tears easily and has to be replaced every few years. I agree--the West Coast has the right idea. You practically HAVE to have an inground pool to survive the heat here... I also wasn't enamored with the idea of a pool. I worried about my girls when we moved here. In fact, the youngest fell into the pool in February once. I don't know why they were out there. But her sister kept her head, told her to kick off her shoes, grabbed the pool broom and shoved the end of it to her and pulled her to the step. They were about 8 and 6 at the time, but every year I sent them to swim lessons for a week in April so they knew what to do in case they fell in. Scared the crap out of me when they came into the house and Sierra was crying and sopping wet! But I didn't worry about them again because they proved that they could both swim AND save the other one if something happened. (Now they are like fish and have taught my god children how to swim.) Just make sure the girls have swim lessons!
Posted by: Sheri at July 2, 2006 11:23 PM
So, when we moved to America we bought a house in NJ. It had a 32 ft inground pool. It was winter at the time, but fantABulous, thought we. It will be totally scrumbelitiously gorgelicious in the summer when it's too hot to live! And then, in the summer, when it really was too hot to live, I took off the cover, the water was pea soup, and we're talking 20,000 gallons of the stuff in the fucking pool.
Many phone calls and trips to the pool company with speciman jars ensued...
I feel for you hon, I really do!
Michelle, ex-pool girl
Posted by: Michelle C at July 3, 2006 12:11 PM
I am suddenly rethinking the whole fucking pool thing, even though I live in SoCal. this year, hubby got his spa, which he takes care of shocking and cleaning and washing the filter and all of the things that must be done to keep the water from being green and gross. Perhaps that is enough and I shall simply stay inside in the a/c when it is ungodly hot outside...
Posted by: Dia ![[TypeKey Profile Page]](http://www.literarychicks.com/nav-commenters.gif)
at July 3, 2006 2:06 PM
Well, since I live in Florida, where it's, like, a zillion degrees out year round, I dream of having a pool, fucking or otherwise. But, no. We buy the one house in town that didn't come with a pool. So Sam and I keep trucking off to the beach to cool off, while I try not to think of all of the shark attack stories that have been popping up in the paper lately.
Posted by: Whitney at July 3, 2006 3:25 PM
Lani, so sorry about the fucking pool. My last house had a fucking pool and I found that I preferred the previous houses pool-lessness to that. This house, in which we are multi-generational, has a lovely in-ground pool which is maintained by my dad, who is a chemist and think nothing of tossing chemicals into the water. He also knows how to vacuum and understands backwashing the filter. I, on the otherhand, thought backwashing anything sounded gross and refused to do it. Remind me, sometime, to tell you of the fucking pool at HGH (hideous green house) and the viper pit that was my backyard. I promise you'll laugh and think your pool not so bad. I promise.
Posted by: laurenjharwood at July 3, 2006 3:56 PM
Ah. I have obviously found my people.
Well, five days and two hundred fucking dollars into the fucking pool, and we might just be able to swim in it sometime this season. I went into Pool Haven this morning, and Natalie wouldn't believe me when I told her that I was giving the pool away free to anyone who wanted to take it away at the end of the season. She kept laughing and saying, "No, you'll change your mind..."
To which I laughed and said, "No, I won't..."
So, Whit m'dear, if you and yours want to rent a U-Haul and make a road trip - darlin' it's yours.
Posted by: Lani at July 3, 2006 5:43 PM
You have to let us know how the girls liked the pool?
Are you going to tell the virginity story?
Perhaps it can be a theme one week.
Posted by: Terri at July 5, 2006 3:14 PM
I really need to preview before I post. The first sentence was not a question.
Posted by: Tim Cockey Author at July 5, 2006 3:16 PM
LOL - no worries "Tim" who I believe is also Terri? Because, if not, I have no ideawhat your post is about.
Anyway - yes, the girls are enjoying the fucking pool. They don't really swim - I need to get them lessons - but they've got little floaties and they like to... float. ;) But I still hate the fucking pool, and have no intention of putting this kind of money and energy into it every summer, so it's gone come the fall. I've already made a deal with Natalie to come and take it in September, and I can't wait to get my yard back! Wahooooo!
Posted by: Lani at July 10, 2006 6:33 AM
