Ready for summer

Our pool is leaking--significantly.

Before COVID, Tom turned over the pool care to me. I've done a damn fine job, and I notice every little thing--like rapidly losing water.

But, as my readers know, repairs (and things outdoors) fall under the husband-will-take-care category.

Him: "How would you feel if we just filled the pool?"

Me: "I knew that would be your response. No."

I kept bugging him. He finally admitted he didn't know who to call. I suggested the guy that put in our new pump during COVID. He didn't return our calls. Pinch-a-Penney, the pool guru company here in Florida, shrugged and couldn't offer much advice either, according to the hubby.

Finally, while at my writer's conference in May, I spoke to a guy whose daughter had just had her pool leak repaired. He agreed to get me the company's name, and once I had it, I called them. I explained that our trouble began after my husband cleaned out the filter.

Me: "This isn't to say I blame him for the leak, but I think maybe he is the cause of the leak."

We made an appointment. The pool was to be clean and sparkling. It was on the day the repairman showed up. Victor was six feet seven inches. I know because I asked him. I did not tell him I was writing a romance novel with a hero of that height. My children have requested I keep that information to myself whenever I spot tall men.

He gave me an A+ for my pool care, told me he'd be checking the lines, the skimmer, and the light, and told me I didn't need to micromanage him. Thank god, because it was like 110 degrees.

I went back to writing. My office is poolside, so Victor had to pass by my windows to his truck. He did this often. Back and forth. Back and forth. Eventually, during one of my Apple Watch's recommended stand up and move times, I peered out at the pool. Here is what I saw.

My main focus was on Victor underwater. I watched and watched him, and when he didn't come up for air, I started getting antsy. What the heck? I pictured him floating gently to the surface, unconscious. I started panicking. What to do? Jump in and pull him out? Scream at him to see if he surfaced? My lifeguarding certification has expired. What the hell was this guy thinking?

Somewhere among the rapid thoughts flitting through my head, I registered a sound. That's when I noticed the object on the side of the pool and followed the hose. 

OH! It was like the air pump the mermaids at Weeki Wachee use! That is so cool! Then, I wanted to ask a ton of questions. And then, my brain began thinking of how this job was right up my alley.

Eventually, I left him alone. It took him over an hour to find nothing. I paid $350 for no signs of a leak, although he blamed it on the seal to the filter, which led me to believe IT WAS THE HUSBAND'S FAULT ALL ALONG.

He told me what to buy. I took a picture of it and wrote out the check. He told me it was good for 90 days.

A week later, our pool leaked worse than before the leak guy showed. I was filling it every day instead of every two days. I called the company back. A different guy showed up. He was not as gregarious as his counterpart, and he did not use an air pump. This time, I stayed outside until the 120-degree weather melted me. I went inside and left him to the job.

He rechecked everything and delivered the news. Our skimmer was leaking, and he found a cracked lid on the pump system. He was diligent. 

Me: "Are you the closer of the company?"

Him: "I'm the owner."

Okay, so not the most friendly guy, but hey, he sealed the leaks! 

The husband got a new lid a couple days later, and as of now, we are good to go!