POOL GAME, PART 2

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So last week, the pool cover was in the water, along with every leaf this side of the Mississippi River. This week, we move to the disaster recovery phase.

Acknowledging that my attempt at a cheaper, more effective pool covering only accomplished 50 percent of the goal, I stared into the murky depths of my pool thinking, “So how would I get a dump truck back here? And how easy could I convince my daughter that we never had a pool. A pool? That’s just crazy talk. Silly little 4-year-old. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

Of course, that’s about the time when my wife said, “Man, that pool’s nasty. At least we’ve got a few weeks before Allie can get in.” This upset me, because I distinctly recall, before we had children, that my wife and I agreed to speak with one voice, and I think that includes burying the pool and convincing our daughter it never existed. She was definitely not getting behind me on this, a little jab at the heart of the very foundation of our marriage, of our promise and commitment to each other.

“Oh, hush and clean the pool,” she said. (Note to self: Working on dramatic monologue presentation.)

So I began the arduous task of cleaning the pool. Basically the only way to get settled leaves off the bottom of the pool is to use a dip net attached to a 10-foot pole (yes, you can touch some things with it), scoop out a netful, and then wait about 10 minutes for the leaves to settle back down so you can repeat the process. Using some guesstimation, I figured I would get the remaining leaves just in time for my great grandchildren to take a swim.

But I persevered. And during the settling times, I would brush down the walls. I have no idea what this does, but the pool people, as I am leaving the store, always say, “And make sure you brush down the walls.” So I attach this big brush to the pole and brush brush brush. I’m a well-trained little pool monkey.

It was evening, so I had the pool light at the deep end turned on. A little mood lighting, if you will. As I brushed the wall near the wall with the light, I saw a bright flash and heard what sounded like an underwater explosion. I realized in short order that it sounded like an underwater explosion because it was an underwater explosion. I also realized that the pool was now very dark. No more mood lighting.

Somehow, the glass casing of the light and broken, and the flood of water into the light canister made for a terrific depth charge. Surly she would get on board with the dump truck idea now.

So I talked to the pool folks, and they informed me that fixing the light was quite simple. The underwater light -- the one that sits several feet below water, flush with the pool wall. That one.

Turns out, there was a little power box tucked in the bushes nearby, and that’s where all of the light’s wiring lived. There was a conduit that went into the ground and into the side of the pool. They told me to drain the pool down a few feet sot he light was above water. Then unwire all of the light parts in the little box thingee, tie a rope to the parts and then pull the canister out. Then, when I wanted to rewire the light, I could just drag the rope back through, easily threading the wiring back through the conduit. Yeah, I see NO reason I wouldn’t succeed.

Before even trying to do this, I enlisted the help of my neighbor, as he seems to have a keen sense for these things. Of course, he also broke his ankle trying to hang Christmas lights, so perhaps it was a gamble. Anywho, this task seemed undaunting to him, and two trips to the hardware store and a roll of duct tape later, we had somehow dislodged the light canister from the pool.

Fortunately, replacing the light lens was fairly simple, so it was then just a matter of putting the light back in. Again, I enlisted Hopalong Holiday to help me. My biggest concern as we pulled the wiring back through was that we would pull and suddenly a string would pop free, leaving the wiring somewhere around middle earth. Fortunately, I was not steering this ship, so the wires came out easily. The last step was pop the canister back in and secure the lone screw that held it in. Easy as can be. That’s when I realized that three feet is a lot longer than you realize. And it’s a lot easier to grab the canister by the top part and pull it onto land than it would be to hang over the edge and screw in a screw at the bottom of the canister, which, oh by the way, does not seem like a necessary place to put it.

So there I was, one hand on the diving board, leaning as far into the pool as I could, my free hand trying to both hold a screw and a screwdriver and my feet digging into the concrete so as not to go headfirst into the pool. I am sure the process would have gone a little faster if my partner in this project had done more than laugh.

Eventually, I got the light back in, and, much to my surprise, it is actually now a functioning light. After a few weeks of cleaning, I managed to get the pool back to normal, and we are now just waiting for it warm up so that we can go swimming. Which reminds me, I need to cancel the dump truck.