Pool People

We never thought of ourselves as “pool people.” We know pool people. We’ve been invited to their homes. Pool people are gregarious; they throw parties with lots of other people and lots of beer and chips. We don’t. That’s how we knew we weren’t pool people.

But then, we bought a house with a derelict pool in the back yard. We toyed with the idea of tearing it all down — liner, wall, deck, fence, gate — but that job never rose anywhere near the top of the priority list. 

Eventually, just for the hell of it, we set up a modest sized Intex pool inside the deck. That was fun. Our extended family enjoyed it, and every year the pool got bigger until finally we cleaned the whole thing out and replaced the liner, painted the deck (twice now & it needs it again), and became pool people.

Last summer and so far this summer, the pool has not been fun. It’s been a gigantic pain in every muscle of my body.

Our pool is surrounded on two sides by trees. 

Trees =  leaves, twigs, pollen and underbrush. 

Underbrush = raccoons. 

Raccoons  = poop on the deck. 

This year and last, we’ve had frequent, severe storms.

Storms = rain + lightning.

Rain =  cold water. 

Lightning = death.

Cold water + threat of death = no swim time.

This entire set of equations turns a pool into all work and no play. 

The side of pool people that I never saw was their capacity for manual labor . . .

their willingness to backwash . . .

to power wash, sweep, skim, vacuum . . .

to perform tests, wear gas masks, add chemicals . . .

With Dick’s decreasing mobility, more of the pool maintenance is falling to me. Last year, I bought a gadget called a Kreepy Krauly. It runs off the filter intake and is supposed to crawl randomly (creepily?) across the bottom of the pool, vacuuming up leaves, twigs and silt. It kind of works but quickly clogs the filters. 

What happens when a pump can’t move water because the filters are clogged? Beats me. 

Maybe nothing. Maybe disaster. 

I live with one ear tuned to the sound of the pump. Is it louder than usual? More strained? I don't know this stuff. I never wanted to know this stuff. I'm a tea and needlework person.

This year, I bought a Turbo Turtle. It works off the filter discharge. A hose is attached with one end to the wall socket and the other to a floating gadget disguised as a turtle. From the turtle’s belly, another hose drags a net. The water from the discharge flows through the turtle down to the pool floor where it stirs up leaves and silt for the trailing net to capture. A brilliant plan. 

But my turtle seems intent on going in circles clockwise until he’s coiled inside the hose with no way out, no matter how much his internal randomizer ball tries to send him in different directions. I’ve narrowed the problem to the hose being still coiled from packaging. The manufacturer’s solution is to lay the hose in the sun. 

We’ve had no sun for going on 9 days now.

But wait, there's more.

No, I'm weary. I don’t even want to think about this year’s crop of buffalo gnats.

Where’s the balance between effort and entertainment?