My weekly pool cleaning job has been getting more frustrating. I don't know if it's because it's windy or what, but the surface of the pool looks like a shag rug. There is so much pollen, dead bugs, leaves, dust, and general detritus that it's hard to see to the water. No amount of vacuuming and skimming keeps it clean for more than a day.
So I swept the patio–dust falls on patio, dust blows from patio to pool, so clean patio=clean pool. Good math? No. After an hour of back-breaking sweeping I remembered that I haven't cleaned the filters. This year. Armed with Grond the Super Wrench I approached the fiberglass pressure tank. I saw the pool guy do this last October. Sort of. I know the system is pressurized, and the tank has all sorts of labels and warnings. Whatever. Grond and I loosened a medieval-looking steel clamp and I leaned back, waiting for a hiss and release of pressure. Nope.
At this point I should have looked up something online. But we all know instructions are for sissies and hand-flappers. So I got a screwdriver to pry the thing open. Nothing doing. Hmm… Grond and I were befuddled. Finally I saw a knob on the pressure valve. Don't know 'til you try. Sure enough, the pressure hissed away and I was able to pry off the lid. Man oh man were those filters dirty. Ten minutes each of pressure-washing with the hose and they still dribbled out silt and junk. As I watched the yard fill up with water and silt, I had an environmental quandry. Is it better to use lots of water when we're in a drought, or throw away these huge filters and buy new? Ha ha, who cares! I'm gonna turn on all the appliances, leave the Hummer idling all night, and sit in the hot tub and light cigars with Zimbabwean currency. I'm sure Zimbabweans would agree that's all it's good for.
Anyway. After flooding the garden with a Nile-esque bounty of silt and water, I got the filters back in the tank and spent the next twenty minutes wrestling the clamp and gasket back into place. Just as I got it tightened I saw the plastic lock fitting for the filters sitting on the ground beside me. Uncle F#$k-Up does pool maintenance!
Besides learning all the subtleties of filter cleaning, I also learned that bear-hugging a fiberglass tank will give you spotty red rashes all over your forearms. Though now the rash is gone because the fiberglass particles have been absorbed through my skin and are swirling around my bloodstream. No problem, my heart filters will screen them out. When was the last time I changed those?
Writer, architect, father, husband.
Holy crap, this is funny. Somehow I imagine the opening of Thus Spake Zarathustra playing as you howl in simian rage and beat the pressure tank. GNGGHRGRRGRR!My pants have not fallen up, but I have been able to launch them sideways after an appropriate diet.
Uncle F#$%@ Up has figured it out! At least you only had one part lying beside you. Why not just pretend you're swimming in an algae laden pond and not worry about the crapola on the surface–ha-ha, just kidding.
Was there cursing involved that I just couldn't hear from inside? If not, are you the pod that replaced Pon?
Pon is not pod. There was cursing, but the neighbor got to hear it instead. Zoot alors!