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My Pool Man by Elizabeth Palmer Hale

Oh the joys of the lazy hazy summer days! Here's a story charmingly filled with love, understanding, plus a dose of humor! Reminescent of "Milton The Monster" cartoon's theme song where a mad scientist sang about adding two drops of sinister sauce into a mixture containing essence of terror. What is Elizabeth's "Pool Man" creating in their swimming pool?

In Canada, pool owners are getting the fever.

Between removing the winter liner, vacuuming the debris and administering the proper chemicals, opening your pool is not brain surgery.

For some unknown reason, we spend a fortune on products each spring.

Our friends have suggested we meet with a professional prior to beginning. (And I don't mean the guy at the local pool store!)

My sweetie is one of those men who honestly believes he knows how to do everything. He has even convinced me. Unfortunately, such intense self-confidence is expensive.

Our ritual begins, not by vacuuming the pool (as any veteran pool owner will tell you), but by administering any and all chemicals my pool man finds in our shed.

He gets a 'feeling' every time he mixes these potent pool cocktails.

If he doesn't see immediate results, he heads off to the store and purchases other pool treatments.

The fact that he doesn't follow the directions on the bottles may have something to do with our tardy pool opening.

Ah, but my pool man has a theory: directions are for those who don't know what they are doing.

This excludes him!

In order to keep my nagging at bay, he issues regular reassurances in my direction. 'This one is going to do the trick Hon!'

As Dr. Evil would say with his pinkie pointing to his lower lip, "Riiiiight!"

At least my pool man has sense of humour. The other day he agreed to take a water sample to be analyzed.

As we rolled into the parking lot, I suggested we let the clerk know what we've put in the pool so far.

He looked at me with his boyish smile and those brown eyes that make me melt. 'Do we have to?'

Inside the store, he looked for a clerk he could fool.

Analyzing the water, this chosen clerk looked up at my pool man with a puzzled face.

He reminds me of a scientist who is examining a new life form. "This is not untreated water is it?"

'No', my partner admited shyly. I wished we were at home where I could take advantage of his vulnerability.

'Tell me from the beginning' said the clerk, not prepared for the history my partner was about to reveal.

'The first step, sir, is to vacuum your pool on waste. Did you vacuum, sir?'

My pool man didn't 'feel' our pool needed to be vacuumed!

When he mentioned that he added bleach, lots of bleach, the clerk almost had a seizure. 'Never put in bleach, sir.' I could only imagine what the clerk was thinking.

We left the store with our first installment of chemicals needed to fix the water's imbalance.

Did my pool man hear anything that poor clerk was trying to tell him? I'm not so sure.

'They just want to sell us more products. I'm not falling for it.'

But we were still walking out carrying buckets of "fix-it" chemicals.

The next day, when we were suppose to return to the store with another water sample, the love of my life declared that he had since added another product, which he was sure would do the trick.

'We don't need to go back to the store Hon. I know this will work.'

I wonder if we will ever be able to swim in our pool this summer. Thank goodness we are opening it early enough. There will be plenty of time to return to the store, with our tail between our legs, begging for forgiveness and more chemicals.

About This Story's Author:

Elizabeth Palmer is a Canadian freelance writer, mother and wife. Elizabeth can be reached at elizabeth.palmerhale@sympatico.ca

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