Turning off the filter for now
There’s an appeal to a well-run small business. The owner who understands the clientele, chooses the inventory carefully and is able to offer a reasonable price point for the things I need will get my return business. This morning, faced with the annual “close the pool” checklist, I decided to invest in one of those foam thingies that keep the skimmer from collapsing in the arms of an iceberg.
There might be a proper name for it, but think of something that resembles the isometric drawings we used to produce in high school drafting class. A combination of cylinder, rectangle, triangle; all angles and perfectly formed from a machine that extrudes styrofoam. The sort of object that would cost three fingertips if it had to be carved from a block, priced with taxes at under six dollars, including the piece of fake hose stuffing that keeps the pink antifreeze in place should the air pressure fluctuate rapidly. The pool closing kit.
We’re at a point where we’ll have to decide if the backyard chemistry set is worth the electricity and chlorine needed for basic salubrity. This summer, I didn’t get in the water, not even once. Ditto for the distaff. The children (two out of three surveyed) fell below the five times or more checkmark on my imaginary sheet. That means a choice for next year. If we don’t ever restart the pool, it will have to be dismantled, disposed and deployed elsewhere. No more toxic powder. No more cut electrical cords. A freshly seeded section of lawn to mow, or convert for petanque. We have six months to make up our collective mind.
