Last week Brandie generously purchased us a pool, one
of those with the inflatable ring around the top that holds the water in. (They
look like a blue flying saucer filled with water.) The pool is 3˝ feet deep and
18 feet around, plenty big for us all to lay on floats working on our tans for
hours while no housework or laundry gets done.
That first day was awesome! My son-in-law Jeramy put
together the pool, then worked the grill, while the water hose slowly worked its
magic. Grandson Andrew and great-nephew Drake, both 12, splashed around
discussing how cold it was and comparing who was the paler of the two. By the
way, you know you are truly old when you have a “great” niece or nephew. And I
have both. And, since said great-niece is 18 now, the odds are pretty good that
at some point in the future I will become not only a GREAT aunt, but actually a
GREAT-GREAT aunt. Have mercy. Anyway, eventually the pool filled, the food
grilled and a fine time was had by all.
According to Google, “stuff” must be done to pools. To
be clear, they must be shocked. So, I purchased “Shock-Plus” or something.
Google had said I needed other “stuff,” but I just went with the shock. I
figured anything called “Shock-Plus” should work miracles, and I might even
sprinkle it around my house, kinda like carpet fresh. Then I read the package
and learned that it could kill us, so I figured I probably shouldn’t do that.
Meanwhile, Brandie, (who has a college degree and
knows things) purchased the remaining “stuff” and brought it by for our pool
guy. (Turns out that’s me.) Being pool guy isn’t easy. One must test the pH,
adding different “stuff,” chlorine tabs, then “shock”again after heavy rain, or
lengthy episodes of floating, writhing, greasy bodies. You get the picture. On a
side note, Google says urine in a pool is reportedly not a problem due to it
being sterile. Hm. Who knew?
So, yesterday pool guy (me) hauled all the “stuff”
out, including my glasses, so I could read that tiny test strip. It was sunny
and warm so, as directed by Brandie, I entered the pool and began walking in
circles to encourage any junk to go to the middle, so I could scoop it out with
my handy-dandy net. After about my fourth go-round I was car sick, so I tried
the net. Which immediately broke. Then, without warning, the sky opened up and
rain began to pour, accompanied by lightening and thunder. What the heck. My
crop-circle maneuvers over, I decided to pH test anyway, promptly stepping on my
glasses. Alrighty. I’ll just add the chlorine and go in. I was, by now, drenched
from head to toe.
I couldn’t open the filter to put in the chlorine. Of
course I couldn’t. I raised my hands to Heaven asking, “Why God?” But His only
answer was rain in my eyes and a clap of thunder. Gathering up the “stuff,” I
headed inside, stepping on my glasses a second time.
If you are in need of pool maintenance, Pam has
started her own company. Your pool doesn’t really get clean, but it’s worth the
show watching her try.