Unhoard Your Life

One of our most of basic instincts is to acquire things in life.

We get a job. 

We get clothes. 

We get money. 

We get material things. 

Then we get a place to put them into. 

We get more money.

Rinse and repeat.

We store the things we had already acquired.

We fill up our existence.

We run out of space.

Then what? 

We die.

Someone else has to deal with all of the things we acquired.

Some get tossed. 

Some get passed down.

Some get put into a box in some other space.

The cycle continues.

I am as guilty as anyone else in this life. 

I have an attic with stuff from years ago that I will never use again.  I have a foot locker containing things from my grade school years.   I have cases containing cassette tapes from my youth, and even from the days when I still had a car that could play a cassette tape.  I haven’t thrown them out.   I can’t play them on anything, but I can’t part with them.   I have stuff in my garage.  Broken bits and bobs that don’t belong to anything that works, but I haven’t thrown them away because, eventually I will fix them or find a use for them.   

No, I won’t.

I’m just as bad on a digital scale.   I have disks, drives, and files dating back to the Apple IIc era of technology.  I “try” to keep all the footage of gameplay I record for my YouTube channel as if I can reuse that footage for something else.  Multiple three or four terabyte drives sitting on a shelf.    I put quotes around the word try because, on occasion, the drives fail and I basically have a paperweight that lights up but does nothing else.

Look at video games, today.  You start out with nothing and then you have to acquire resources.   You get rewarded for getting things.  If you're like me, you hold onto things because even though you have no idea what they do, at some point, you may need them.  By the middle of the game, you are frantically looking to store things in your inventory or find uses for them because you have no more room.   Video games have mirrored my hoarding life or enhanced.  I'm not sure which.

Is it genetic?  Is it an illness?  Is it just laziness?

Well, the first thing you have to understand is that I am the child of a baby boomer, that ever aging generation that lived through the Great Depression and World War II.  They had to scrimp and save everything because there just wasn’t any money or materials during those times.  Everything was precious either from a KTLO (Keep The Lights On) perspective or because of the war effort.  My parents have a house full of things from the 60s through today and I do not relish the day I, along with my siblings, will have to go through it all.

The second thing you have to understand may also explain something about yourself if you find you have the same issue.   I tend to resonate from mnemonic devices.  I associate a time and place to listening to a song or a visual reference.  I can remember a memory from a smell or listening to a sound.  For me, the tactile response to seeing something from my past brings me back to that place better than just having to remember it.    Maybe it’s fear of aging.  Maybe it’s fear of mental deficiency in my later years. 

Maybe I am just lazy.

But I am getting better.  In fact, I have done a lot of junk dumping.   When I first moved into my house, I could actually park a car in the garage.  Then, slowly, over the next 12 years, things got shoved into every space in that garage until you could only walk a small path from the door to the back, after moving a garbage can or two.  Along one wall were cardboard boxes, just tossed on top of each other.  I planned to use those for building fires in my wood burner or fire pit outside.   Well, I quit using the basement because the cats basically took over the downstairs (i.e. destroyed) and the place needs redone, so no more fires and no renovating until they are gone.    The other side of the garage was basically things that just got shoved there.   After a horrible set of rainstorms this summer, the garage flooded and the place reeked of wetness and mildew.   So, shit got tossed.   All of the cardboard boxes were broken down and consolidated into one giant box.  Three weeks’ worth of garbage collection took care of all the bags that were filled.  Now, while I still can’t get a car in there, I can move freely about and it’s more organized and I should have no problems in the event of another flood as there is ample space for water to reach the drains if need be.  Not, that I want that to happen, but nature sometimes dictates these things, not you.

My daughter’s room was another sore point.   Now, I am totally ashamed in how this played out but it happened and I can’t change that. 

When she was born, we had her nursery all done up and just adorable.  As far as renovations go, I was quite pleased with myself for being able to do what I had done.  I hate painting and I suck at these kinds of room things, but it really worked out, well.  But, she didn’t stay a baby or toddler very long.  That tends to happen with humans, they grow up.   Yet, we still kept all the things; toys, clothes, furniture.  It all stayed in that room and soon, you couldn’t find anything.  You couldn’t walk.  You couldn’t sleep.  At the age of six and even seven, my daughter still slept on the mattress that came from her crib.   The crib itself became a day bed, but the mattress and frame remained in the same shape, basically, as the day she came home from the hospital, minus the front railing.  And you could not walk in her room without stepping on something.  You could not open the door all the way.   It was horrible and I didn’t have to sleep in there, so it didn’t get fixed for a long time. 

But, it got fixed. 

The crib was dismantled and stored in the attic.  A new bed was bought and all of her childhood things, like toys or clothes were thrown out, packed away, donated, or repurposed.  It was now the bedroom of a bright young girl who has room to move and grow and it’s not done, but it’s headed in the right direction.

The attic is another sore point but it’s on the list.  My room is just the same but it’s somewhat better than it was three years ago.   The rest of the house is slowly making a comeback and it’s hard and it takes time.   It also took something else.   It took someone else.

You see, my whole world crashed and burned in 2012.   I haven’t talked much about it or about anything else, really, because like this blog, my life became neglected.    

My marriage ended.

But that’s not what caused everything to go to hell in that house.   That’s what changed it all.  

Now, it’s not what happened during my divorce that’s important.  My ex-wife and I are still friends.  We live five minutes from each other.  We are still parents.  For the sake of our daughter, we swallowed any feelings of animosity or anything we had for each other and made it easier on her.   But, the things that didn’t get easy were undoing all the damage that had been done to our lives, by ourselves.  I still live in the house and it still has so many things from our life together in it.  So, it’s hard for us to un-hoard our lives because of all the moving parts.    Ashamedly, for a year, my daughter had to share a bed with me every weekend because her room was unlivable and maybe it was depression that was keeping me from getting my ass in gear to fix it, but it got fixed because someone, other than me, stepped in and helped.

That’s the key to un-hoarding.   You need someone who isn’t going to be a ‘yes’ man or woman.  You need someone to make you make a decision and then question that decision.  It also helps because you don’t get caught up in the trips down memory lane when half of the work is being done by someone who can keep things out of your hands.   There were times I stopped to reminisce over a onesie or a toy.   But, the fact that someone else is there helping you makes you feel more productive and… somewhat guilty that they have to help with all this work. 

You need a support system that isn’t going to say, “Aww, I know how you feel.  We’ll just keep a few things.”

No.  Kick it in the ass.  You’ll feel better.  

Remember, your kid isn’t going to be a baby again.  Someone else can use it or it can be discarded, properly.  Get rid of it.  

You’re never going to suddenly reconstruct that teapot that shattered into 15 pieces.  I don’t care how much Super Glue you use.   Get rid of it.

And then buy that person dinner or drinks or help them back.  It’s easier to throw something out when it’s not your stuff.  Just like it’s easier to move someone when it’s not your stuff.

Take back your life so someone else doesn’t have to when you’re gone.

If you live to be a grand old age, you should probably pare down to just the essentials.

Acquire memories.  Acquire friends.  Get rid of all those things you cannot use. 

Un-hoard your life.

If Chivarly Isn't Dead It Should Be

I am going to preface this entire post with the disclaimer that I haven’t been on a first date since Clinton was in office.

And I mean Bill, not Hillary as Secretary of State.

Really.

OK.

So, I’ve seen a lot of stuff about dating and how guys are all like, “I bought dinner.  You should like me.  I spent all this money and you’re blowing me off and just calling me a friend.”  And women are like, “You guys just don’t get it.  Men suck.  They are horrible.”

It doesn’t help when you see things like The Nice Guys of OK Cupid or, God forbid, The Juggalos of OK Cupid.  Not to mention, Buzzfeed sounds like a bitter version of Liz Lemon who hates men.

Back when I was still in the dating scene, we didn’t have Facebook.  We didn’t have texting.  Hell, I didn’t have a cell phone.  If you wanted to get a hold of me you either called my house phone (like what the hell is that?)  or you got a hold of me through email.  (which Hotmail isn’t even around anymore.)   I met people at work or in bars or at other places and a connection was made.   You would set a time and a place and go out.  After that, there were phone calls and conversations and generally, the getting to know someone process was done through organic means.  You asked someone about themselves.  You didn’t follow them on Twitter, check out their Pinterest page, or stalk them on Facebook.

I can’t imagine what it’s like to be back in this environment after so much has happened.  Hell, today, paying for dinner could be a huge foul.  Why?   Read this and tell me what is wrong…

I know I’ve been out of it for almost 15 years, but this guy doesn’t understand one thing about women in the 21^st century. 

“I think I’m the only single guy I know that actually takes a girl out to a restaurant on a first date. There’s a reason for this.  If you take a girl out and show her you’re more than some douche looking to just get in her pants, odds are, you’re going to get a second date, at least. Call me old fashioned, but a nice dinner is worth the money to get to know someone to some extent.

For me, it’s not about the money, and I get why people are stingy when it comes to going out with people they don’t know. Look, I get it.  Sh*t costs money. But really, what’s the difference? Treat yourself to a good meal, and if the company is good, why the hell wouldn’t you take a girl out to a nice dinner?”

Seriously?  This guy would be lucky to get a second date.  OK, let me rephrase that.  This guy would be lucky to get a second date with a woman not found in 1982.  He sounds like a “nice” guy but he automatically thinks that the requirement for a second date or a relationship is just doing the bare minimum?  “If I do A. B. and C.  Then I’m in.  There’s no reason why she would say no.”

What he doesn't take into account is that, today, women aren't necessarily looking for that type of guy. They may want someone to be an equal in some facets and take charge in others.   He’s assuming that because he was raised a certain way that it’s the perfect formula for happiness and romance.   I was raised that way and let me tell you, it's not the same anymore.  You need to evolve and start thinking about their feelings.

He says chivalry is dead.  Well, good.  Because the system hasn’t evolved past the 70s.  Chivalry, as his ancestors knew it, is not an applicable model for how you should treat women.  It’s an antiquated set of guidelines that does not take into account anything that might matter to a woman.  It's simply a "I know what women want because I'm being nice and courteous and holding doors and paying for dinner."   Well, duh?  You should do that just as a courtesy, not as a requirement.  That's like getting points on the SAT for writing your name on the right line.

Chivalry being dead isn't a bad thing as long as good manners, respect, and decency are still in play. You don't have to take a girl to a fancy dinner on the first date to be a gentleman. You can both meet for drinks or go to an event. You can still get a second or a third if you treat them well and it's what they would like.  How about ask them if they wanted a second date?  Don’t assume that because you did nothing to offend or disrespect them that they should immediately call home to tell Mom and Dad they met the man of their dreams.  Here’s a little tip.  Maybe they just don’t like you enough.  Maybe you're a good guy but not what they're looking for.  Where this guy probably sees physical flaws in a woman that would negate the idea of a second date, she's probably looking way deeper than just how you look.

And paying for a meal.   Good luck with that.   You need to adapt just as much as women do to men in the present.   I’ll get to that in a minute or two.   Paying for a meal could kill you in an instant. 

Why?

It conjures a stigma of weakness or inequality.   There are women today that are perfectly fine and normal (By whatever standard you may have in your narrow minded brain) and by you getting out that wallet, you suddenly just put them right into the corner like Baby in Dirty Dancing.  Did they get a vote?  Were they consulted?  Did they automatically give up their right to be independent?   Ask them, maybe? Some see it as an obligation to be appreciative.  A good guy will pay for dinner, a real man will know if it's what she wants him to do and act accordingly.

Admittedly, these things should be agreed upon ahead of time and while you should expect to do so, as a courtesy, don't feel as if they should be beholden to you when it comes to an archaic institution that can, in some eyes, demean them as a person.

They'll let you know. Be perceptive and respectful. The rest will come if it is meant to, not because you shelled out cash for a dinner.

Start out small.  A “date” can mean many things, but it shouldn’t have an expectation put upon it other than two people making a plan to do something together with an understanding that for whatever time you are together, your attention is on being with each other and not your friends or your phone.   That may be too specific or it may not be specific enough, I don't know.   That’s part of the process of communication.  Find out what those expectations are from each other and be respectful in those regards.  

Now…  ladies.  This is where we need to have a little chat.  This is what singles dating has become.  You're phone is not an acceptable secretary.  Lay down some structure. 

Like I said, I have been out of this area for a long time but there are some things that should never be forgotten. 

You need to be a little more specific about what you want.  We are not mind readers.   It would be rather dismissive to say that women have drastically changed over the last one hundred years.  It would also be callous and completely wrong.  Women haven’t changed.   Women are the same as they always were.   They’ve just never really been taken seriously enough to be what they are.  They still aren’t.   They have had a black cloud hanging over them from the dawn of time when it comes to equality and perception.    But here’s the thing.   Men haven’t changed either.    And while there are men that are inherently stupid and thick, there are just as many women who are clueless and vapid.  If you are dating these types of people, don't complain about them to the ones who aren't.  If you have no self respect or standards, you have no right to bitch to those that do.  It's like not voting and then complaining about who won the election.

Look, I get it.  Guys are not perfect.  We will never be perfect.   But, you cannot make us perfect either.   However, guys… I’m sorry…  men… are not all alike.   Another thing that makes me cringe at the thought of actually being back in the dating scene is that there is a ton of crap I would have to fight through to be taken seriously.   It always seems like the sins of the former are passed onto the next.   Meaning, whatever women think about guys, it’s always going to be thought about you.  I understand, at my age, most men, who are dating, are probably divorced or have been in a relationship that somehow ended.    If they aren’t, you might wonder what’s wrong with them?   Let’s face it.   It goes both ways, but in different fashion.   A single guy at 40 must either be a cad, who can’t commit, or still lives with his mother, watches cartoons, and is not someone you want to be with anyway.  And, by that token, a single woman at 40 is either a man hater or can’t keep a guy, which means she’s a train wreck.

Yet, the reality is that it’s probably easier to understand a woman still single at 40 and perfectly fine, but a guy… yeah, there’s something wrong there.  He’s probably a serial killer or is going through a midlife crisis and only looking to date someone half his age who thinks The Notebook is the best movie ever.

Another thing to realize is that a guy who just got out of a long term relationship, especially marriage, doesn’t automatically need to be in another one.  Guys can function on their own, just like women can.   They can cook.  They can clean.  They can probably raise kids, too.  If they want to date you, it's probably because they like you, not because they can't be alone.  

Whatever reason their past relationship didn’t work out…  it’s not like the guy you just broke up with last month.    Also all men are not small minded.  They are capable of taking things slow or whatever speed is fine.  They are willing to learn new things and become more well rounded individuals.    But you have to realize that you cannot inherently change what a man is.  If he has faults or issues, they are not going to go away, just because you are there.   You cannot force him, threaten him, or change him.  You can accept him or you can walk away.  But don’t just settle and think he’s the best thing that will ever happen to you or he will never understand what is wrong and you will resent him and yourself.

Men are smart.  Smarter than you give them credit for.  The ones that are idiots are just part of life… much like the twenty-something bar hopping Instagramming girl who thinks Jersey Shore and Ugg boots are the coolest thing out there.    

Remember.  Most guys don’t want Courtney Stodden or Kate Upton.   They want someone who looks real, acts real, feels real, and can hold their own in a conversation.  The ones (men) who are really worth it want someone who is honest and smart and not afraid to openly tell them exactly what they want in a relationship.  Most guys really want the Velmas, Bailey Quarters, and Mary Anns of the world and there's probably nothing wrong with you, so get over your hang ups and accept that they can like you and won't screw you over because the last three guys did.  And if the guys you date only seem to want some plastic, size zero, receptacle who is only good for a late night call… it’s not the guy's fault… it’s your own for putting up with that.  Live up to your own hype, ladies.  You want to be taken seriously, don't put up with asshats who treat you like crap.   And don't meet guys online, especially ones who say they are separated or going to get divorced.  First of all, they're probably lying about a lot of things and, chances are, they are just looking for sex and have no intention of getting divorced.  Most guys don't go to online dating sites to find a relationship.  They go there to find a discreet hook up because they're unhappy in their marriage.

And guys… don’t be such douche nozzles.   Stop thinking that women owe you anything in return for a meal at TGIFridays.   You’ll get a second date if you actually listen to them instead of assuming you know exactly what they want, because your Nana taught you how to treat a lady. Your nana probably wasn't allowed to have a job in her day.   

And stop making it easier for them to date assholes.  But don’t kiss their ass and don’t be desperate.  Just be open and honest.  The ones that are worth it will be there.  Don’t be a "nice guy".  Be a man who is nice and respectable.  Someone who treats a woman how she wants to be treated.  How she deserves to be treated, based on her own specifications   Don’t be afraid to talk.  Don’t play games.  Don't be chivalrous.  Be advanced.  Be evolved.

Now,  if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to my little bubble.

Weddings and Toasts

Weddings are a polarizing subject, depending on who you speak to.   To the involved, it’s a lot of stress and work over a year or more boiled down to one day of joy or frustration.   The problem is you’ll only remember it if it goes wrong.  

To the bridal party, it’s an opportunity to really define the bonds of friendship.  How much of the bride can you take before you are no longer BFFs?   Let’s face it, grooms are easy.  If they’re awake, they’re fine.   

To the families, it becomes a testament to micromanagement and tolerance of one another.   The majority of the costs usually fall to the bride's family, while the groom's parents usually pick up the rehearsal dinner and bar tab at the reception.  Then there's little sniping back and forth about the seating arrangements.  Who is closest to the bar?  Who gets to the buffet first?  Can we put Uncle Wears-bib-overalls-to-a-funeral next to the snobs from their side of the family?  If you're lucky, the fathers won't be involved in fisticuffs before the cake gets cut.

And to the guests, it’s an excuse to get sloppy drunk at an open bar, to ridicule the people at the party to their date, and to possibly do stupid things all for the price of a gift no one will ever use and an afternoon dressed up in uncomfortable clothes which will undoubtedly be disheveled by the bridal dance.

But, you have to look beyond all these things, though, and find the magic.   You have to see the subtext.  You have to see the inner-workings of the process to understand how much hell you have to go through, just to make it to the point where you can give advice to future couples and not be full of shit.

That’s what I did over the weekend. 

It started out innocent enough.  My family travelled towards the middle of Pennsyltuckey for one of my best friend’s wedding.    We arrived on a Thursday night and stayed until Saturday.  We planned for minimal impact as I brought along a suit, a change of clothes and another backup shirt.   I was way ill prepared for the event.

Thursday night, my buddy stayed at the hotel, while his wife to be stayed at the house.  I decided to help him relax by taking him out for a few drinks with my Father-in-law.  We went to a little bar in Lewisburg called The Bull Run.  The night started out rather innocent.  We talked over beers and then it got interesting.   After a Blue Moon and two Smithwicks I decided to take up the karaoke microphone and serenade my brother in harms with Georgia Satellites’  “Keep Your Hands To Yourself”.  Not too bad.  Then a bunch of girls from Bucknell came in and it got even more interesting.   By the end of the night, I was completely trashed and singing, badly, “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” to the coeds who turned out to be all together… like romantically.   It also didn’t help I was wearing a shirt that said, “Let’s get drunk and make some bad decisions.”

Let's Get Drunk and Make Bad Decisions

Friday, feeling not too bad, we went to the wedding in full suits.  It was outdoors and just hot and humid enough to melt.  My daughter was dying of thirst and proclaimed that “I am so thirsty that I hope it rains so I can drink it and cool off.”

It poured from the beginning of the four minute ceremony until the end.  Well played, universe.

Now, the typical person would look at this event and see an unmitigated disaster.  All the planning, all the stress, all the work, all gone in an instant with a deluge of water.  The superstitious person would take this as a good sign.  I took it as a chance for this couple to remember their wedding day forever.  And I told the bride, “You know that thing you worry about happening on your wedding day?  That thing that could ruin it all.   Well, that was it.  That is the worst thing that will happen today, I guarantee it.  And you know what?  It wasn’t that bad.   We got through the wedding in four minutes, you’re married, and no one is hot anymore.”  

I forgot about the fact that none of us were going to be able to wear these clothes to the reception, unfortunately.  There was one guest laundry facility in the hotel and it was being used.  So, I ended up wearing the shirt from the night before and jeans, because it was the cleanest change of clothes I had to wear.

So, there I am in jeans and a t-shirt, seated at a wedding alongside people in suits.  Worse yet,  I was the best man and had to give a toast.  A toast I worked very hard on writing and was typed up,  printed out, folded in quarters, and nestled snuggly in my suit coat pocket.   It was a horrible mess and disintegrated in my hands.   But I used that.  I used that and the fact that I was now dressed in street clothes to get my point across.  I love these people, dearly, and it was probably the easiest speech I ever gave from memory.  

I stood up and immediately acknowledged what happened to my clothes and pulled out the sopping mess of a speech to great laughs.   The audience was mine.   I spoke about how I had known the groom for 17 years and how he never took my advice about anything.  His past relationships came up, playfully mind you, and without malice.  Then I mentioned how the first meeting with his bride, during a vacation, immediately resulted in acceptance and love from complete strangers.  She was, in fact, the perfect person for him.  He had finally taken my advice.  Then, a cell phone went off, saving me at a transitional dead end.  It was the familiar ringtone of the Theme From The Godfather, emanating from a friend who everyone knew and I used that to my advantage to bring back the crowd.   I then proceeded to give the following advice to the couple.

1. Communicate.  I don't mean talk to each other.  I mean listen.  Tell each other what you want.  Share your hopes, thoughts, fears, everything.  Don't expect each other to guess or automatically know.  That's years down the road.  You guys are still only three years into your relationship.  You have a lot to learn about each other.
   
   
2. Fight.  I don't mean physically, mind you.  There is nothing that could be more detrimental to your longevity than giving up on something just because you don't care.  Whether it's an argument over paint colors or money or the future of your marriage. If you are passionate about it, you need to defend that.  Exhaust all possibilities or you will set up a pattern of abuse that will erode your individuality and integrity and resentment will creep in quickly.
   
   
3. Don't Get Comfortable.  Marriage is not about reinventing the wheel.   After a year or two, you'll get into a rhythm and things will become automatic.  You may not even notice it.  It's gets boring and stagnated and eventually you start to just ignore each other because you think that being married means never being alone.  Always stay on edge and on top of things.
   
   
4. Have Fun.  Don't be afraid to do stupid things every once in awhile.  Get out of your comfort zone and fail.  Be spontaneous. I just had my 20 year reunion last weekend and this couple who graduated in 1951, crashed it.  This 87 year old guy was out dancing with a bunch of 38 year old women and he basically owned the joint.  His date , who he had reconnected with after 60 years, told me "He loves to just have fun.  That's what you gotta do.  You gotta have fun."  They had separate rooms that night, but I think only one got used.

Every word was true.   I spoke from experience.  I spoke from failure.  I spoke from the heart.  I can only hope they remember it as much as they do their wedding.

The Dagobah Spa

Growing up, the one thing I always wanted to have was a pool. For the first ten years of my life, I lived in a house without air conditioning. We didn’t even have a window unit; just box fans to make the sticky July nights somewhat more bearable. Because I had become accustomed to that constant hum from the fans in the window, I sometimes would have to have them going in December just to sleep at night; white noise at it were. But something that would have made the summers even more enjoyable would have been a pool.

When my parents built a new house in 1984, AC included, I thought that perhaps we would finally get a pool. The backyard was flat and open. It was the perfect location for a pool. Now, at our old house, the back yard sloped right to left with a drop off onto the grass driveway before going further down as it neared our neighbors’ house. There was no conceivable way to put a pool there, other than the baby pool I had as a kid. This new yard was so much better. Two acres with plenty of space. Never got that pool, though.

Now, my wife, on the other hand, had a pool during her childhood. However, when she got older, her father did not want to keep taking care of it, so they took it down. So, here we were, two different pool backgrounds; one that always wanted one and never got it and another who always had it but chose to get rid of it. I never could understand how someone could NOT want to have a pool. Now, I do.

When my brother built his own house twenty years after my parents built theirs, he got a pool. Of course, when you build a house, it’s hard to justify such a luxury. That’s what my parents had to do. They prioritized. But in the days of everything is possible, they came out with pools that were simply a liner, held together by piping. That INTEX pool may not have been the prettiest looking thing but it did the trick. So, when my wife finally wore me down into getting one for her and my daughter I thought it was a justifiable $400.

Of course, being the cheap bastard I am, I didn’t really want to pay that much. I was happy to pay $10 for a Saturday at the local public pool. Sure, you had to deal with the crowds, the chance of urinated water, and wet pool bathroom smells but it was still a pool and someone else’s problem. I mean, we did it growing up. We belonged to the Bullskin pool near our house. It was somewhat of a relief to go out there and swim. Still, my wife gave me that look and I cracked. Fortunately, my brother stepped in and helped out.

They had recently got a NEW pool. They got a bigger pool; a better pool. So, in pure family fashion, I got the old pool. Whether it was clothes or a car, being the youngest child meant hand me downs. This one, I could truly appreciate. I save $400 and made my wife happy.

I was never happy again.

Like my first house, growing up, my current house resides in a hilly area. My yard is about as level as Mordor. But, we managed to clear out a space that could be level enough for a 16 foot round pool that runs on paper cartridges and enough HP to power a car driven by a hamster for ten minutes. Constant trips to WalMart to buy more cartridges and chemicals proved to be futile as I could never get the right size filter. The trees in my yard, two oak and two maple, kept providing my wife with hours of enjoyment as she spent the better part of an hour skimming them out of the pool. Her first order of business was always to “MAKE A WHIRLPOOL!” I thought we got a pool to relax, not run around in circles tripping on the ladder every ten seconds.

At the end of the summer, she hated letting go of the pool and tried to keep it open until the last possible moment in September. Then she’d go off and work every weekend at the farmer’s market, leaving me with a toddler to close the pool by myself. In the Spring, after the cover blew off, the water had froze, and one out of every four leaves on my four trees ended up at the bottom of the exposed pool, I had to turn the green and brown cesspool into a clean and sparkly magical oasis of fun. Repeat the cycle.

The outcome was always the same. Try as we might to clear the pool with chemicals, the only option was to drain it, scrub it, and fill it. My water company just loved that. Because of our efforts to get it clean through chemistry, we always ended wasting most of June before coming to the conclusion that we just needed to drain it. Then, in the fall, I attempted to close it by myself and tore the cover and said, “EFF IT!” June came around, I drained it and restarted. However, this was a new year.

We could see the paper filter bit was not going well. In fact, because I could not find the exact filter model I needed, I had to use a table saw to just slice off the bottom off of the (A or C) filter model because it was big enough to just cause the cover of the filter to not close right.

Over Memorial Day, an old friend and teach of mine sold me a Haywayd DE filter and pump. That’s like sticking a HEMI engine on a moped. My father-in-law and I spent the better part of a week making various connective pieces out of what we were given and what I had, coming up with a strange hybrid of hoses for the intake and output. By the end of June, we had a working pool and I decided to be smart and buy a new cover. I was convinced that I was not going to drain the pool next Spring.  Come December, the pool cover was snug and secure in its box in my garage. The leaves were snug and secure in their watery grave at the bottom of my pool.

I did manage to dismantle the filter and pump and stored them underneath our porch which is out of the elements but still cold enough to weaken the top of the filter basin which cracked when I put it on this past May. Green water gushed out of the top and I was forced to consider the possibility that I would have to spend a good $200 to fix my $200 filter on my free pool which cost me $200 in a water bill last August.

Luckily, another friend had a filter and pump he looked to get rid of in June. And, by mid month, I had a working pool. A working pool that looked like the swamp on Dagobah that Luke crashed into in Empire Strikes Back. “DAMNIT! I AM NOT DRAINING THIS BASTARD! TO THE POOL STORE!” I took a gallon jug of my water to see what I needed to do to clear up the pool. I knew I still had leaves on the bottom, but I couldn’t see them. I needed to be able to see what was in there in order to clear it out. The pool store looked at my jug like I had just brought over a sample from Karen Silkwood’s bathtub.

I told them that I was all prepared to just drain the pool and start over, but if I could save the water, I’d prefer it. Well, of course they don’t want me to drain it. No. Because I would lose whatever chemical base was already built up. They did their little tests and came back with a regiment for how to treat the pool.

Now, when I looked at the chemical makeup of this water that would make Swamp Thing go, “DAFUQ?” I was a bit skeptical. Chemical makeup? The chlorine level was less than my tap water. In fact all of the levels were a third or fifth of what they should be. Yet, I spent $200 on chemicals and a new skimmer (The old one broke) in order to save my precious chemical base.

I followed their directions and by step three, when it says, “Your pool water should now be clear.”, I said, “EFF IT!” I bled that bastard faster than a Nigerian banker bleeds a naïve grandmother. When I walked out Sunday morning and saw what was left in my pool, I thought a new life form was going to crawl out of the ooze with plans to take over the top spot on the food chain. I half expected to find a dead cat carcass in there, amongst the leaves and inch of green algae. Although, I don’t know how that would compare to a “live cat carcass.” Would that have been Church from Pet Sematary?

Anyway, I now have a crystal clear pool ready to swim in and it’s only the second of July. Plenty of time until I have to scramble and get the cover on in October. Of course, the $200 I spent in chemicals will be nothing compared to the $450 I will have to spend in August. I left the hose on overnight, with the assurance from my wife that the pool would not overflow. I had a river in my backyard this morning.

The point is, if you are a lazy bastard like I am who keeps forgetting to close his pool properly at the end of the summer then you will have to spend the money to fix it in the Spring. The question is, do you spend $200 on chemicals to make your algae soup highly chlorinated, or do you just drain it and start over. Most pool store employees will tell you to use chemicals. I mean, why not? You spend the money on them and if it doesn’t work, you spend more money because now you have all that chemical base built up. Win-win.

But, if you have a 5000 gallon pool, like I do, you are better off draining it. Yeah, it costs a lot of money but now I’m $500 in the hole because of the chemicals I did buy and the fact that I drained my pool. Rest assured, I will be PROPERLY closing my pool and keeping the chemicals I didn’t use for reopening the pool next year. I will also put my pump and filter in my garage which is more climate controlled than the room under my porch.

It’s your own judgment, I guess. If you have anything bigger than a 16 x 48 pool, you might want to consider keeping the water and fixing it through chemicals. At that point, I would go to sever pool stores with a sample before making that decision. A lot of them will test the water for free if you buy something. If you have a pool, you’ll need chemicals anyway, so buy a bag of shock or tub of chlorine tabs at each place.

Now, I know why my father is one of the smartest men I know. Yes, we never had the pool, but he never had the headache.