Alexandersmap

    Tag: pool

    • Treasure Hunting

      “It’s not enough to reach the treasure, one must bring it back.” – Roger Lipsey

      I’m a collector of words and music.  I find them in the wild and then bring them back in quotes and playlists.  Perhaps that’s enough for the blog or drinks with friends, but I have all the other treasure that I’ve found that deserves another format.  That treasure I keep polishing and dodging and returning to again.  That treasure needs to be brought back.  That treasure nags me like the Arc of the Covenant burning through the box in Raiders of the Lost Ark.  It wants to get out there.  Quit dodging.

      This weekend, in an exercise in futility, I’ve cleaned the oak catkins out of the pool over and over again.  I’ve taken a leaf blower and blown them off the deck and off the driveway.  I’m being mocked by oak trees each time the wind blows and the sky fills with more catkins floating down onto just-cleaned surfaces and into the pool.  I contemplate the wisdom of putting a pool on the edge of this tree orgy, and grab the skimmer yet again.  Maybe the chainsaw would be the better tool…  but I’m committed to what was here before me.  The next owner of this house will someday have to make the same choice.  I wish them well.

      Weekends are filled with time sucks like catkin cleanup and lawn care and an endless task list.  Weekdays offer their own time commitments.  All of this is my choice.  But I the treasure won’t wait indefinitely.  I can hear it calling me even now.  What’s this?  Catkin cleanup?!  Time isn’t your friend, and I want to be set free. I’ll honor the call – promise – but first I need to clean out the pool skimmers.  And take some allergy medicine.  But the treasure grows impatient, like a jilted lover looking for another partner to dance with.  Quit dodging already.

    • Owning a Pool

      I dove into deep water Saturday, grateful for the pool heater and the money to pay for the luxury of it.  I’m pretty sure that if I had to do it all over again I’d never have invested in a pool. I’m not wealthy, but I might be if I didn’t have it.  And since I made the financial leap 13 years ago who am I to ignore it now?  A pool has a price that goes beyond the installation and maintenance costs.  It’s an anchor in your backyard that holds you just as firmly as a garden does.  When I installed the pool I had two young children and a highly active Labrador retriever (dog ear infections from swimming too much: yet another hidden cost).  The children are adults now, the retriever has finally escaped the fences of this world, and I’m still looking at a hole in the ground that doesn’t care whether I want it there anymore as long as I feed it money.

      To say I have a tenuous relationship with the pool is an understatement.  But we’ve recently resolved some of our differences.  It involved money, naturally.  If time is money, then I’ve given a lot of my lifetime to this pool, and I was feeling a bit resentful.  The last straw was the pool heater failing a year ago and the water never really warming up to acceptable levels for the masses.  And so it became an expensive water feature in the garden, with trees shading it just enough that it never really got comfortable, even on the hottest days.  And so this year we ponied up the cash and fixed the heat exchanger, dodging a $6000 replacement cost with an $800 repair.  How long it lasts is anyone’s guess, but the pool is warm enough for the fair weather fans.  And I danced the gleeful dance that only a pool owner can understand; I only spent $800 this time!

      Look, I know a large percentage of the population is unemployed and struggling to make ends meet.  I know that having a pool available when you’re under quarantine is surely a luxury, and don’t think for a minute that I’m not grateful for it now.  I’ve been unemployed with the pool and two kids to feed and know both sides of this story.  For the moment the pool and I are peacefully coexisting, and I’m grateful for the good fortune.  With the kids home all summer, the pool may be used more than it has been in years.  But I see the pool liner fading, and the cracks in the stamped concrete, and the louder hum the pump is making, and I know that this toll road continues indefinitely.  A pool is a lot like a boat in this way, but without the travel.  If there was ever a year to have it, it’s 2020.  And so I’ll continue to throw money in the hole and hope for some measure of return on my investment.  That ROI is measured in laps, and I have my work cut out for me to make it worthwhile.  Better jump in again…

    • Sisyphus the Homeowner

      It’s May 4th and Spring is officially here in New England.  Still a danger of frost, mind you, but the world is blooming.  I’ve been away from home for five full days and as with any extended trip I take a moment to take stock of the house, the pets, the yard and the pool to see what’s changed.  With Bodhi aging I started with him, and sure enough his overall well-being is much worse than it was on Monday.  He’s reaching his time, and we all know it.  For now I wanted to get him outside so he could relieve himself with dignity and I carried him down the deck stairs to the backyard.

      First thing I noticed was the sound of the pool filter making a strange sound and a quick glance at the pool betrayed the reason; the water level was eight inches lower than when I left on Monday morning.  Big problem.  I quickly shut off the filter (thinking the damage is done to the pump) and walked around the pool looking for the source of the leak.  As I write this I still don’t know, but for that much water to be drained from the pool it must be mechanical.  I cursed the timing as this would have been something I would have noticed had I been home.  Kris doesn’t focus on things like this, especially with an aging dog crapping all over the house while she’s at work.

      Beyond the dog and the pool, I noticed the many other changes that occur when you’re away for any time.  The world is constant change, and especially in early spring.  The grass is growing again, which is encouraging given the many bare spots that revealed themselves when the snow melted.  Several shrubs have significant winter kill, which is discouraging given the hope with which I planted many of them just a year ago.  Yet even these show signs of life.  Patient monitoring and maintenance may be enough to bring them back.

      Being a homeowner who travels requires a commitment to maintenance.  You’re signing up for lawn care, housework, mechanical troubleshooting, home decor changes, and ongoing financial outlay to fix or replace things that go astray.  These things ground you when you want to immerse yourself in this world.  Or they handcuff you as you look to the world outside.  It’s a state of mind, really.

      Today I need to roll up my sleeves and get to work maintaining that world we signed up for twenty years ago.  Like Sisyphus pushing the boulder up the hill only to see it roll down to be pushed up again for eternity, being a homeowner means you’re doomed to repeat the same tasks for eternity.  Last year it was the hot tub (still is), this year it’s the pool.  Last year I re-seeded parts of the lawn, this year I’ll be re-seeding parts of the lawn.  Such is the fate of the homeowner.

      There’s a calculation that every homeowner goes through in their heads; is the ROI on this worth the effort?  As an empty nester with a serious wanderlust trait, at what point does it make sense to sell the place and gift these Sisyphean, perpetual tasks to others?  Alas, the answer is… not yet.  For all the maintenance headaches, I love having a pool.  For all the weeding and re-seeding and winterkill, I love having a garden.  For all the sadness of watching your dog age, I love having him around as long as he’s not suffering.  And so it goes, around and around.