Don't Swim in Brown Water

Spring has sprung in the Great White. The trees are in bloom, people are out and about after a winter of hibernation, gardeners and lawn care companies dot the lawns of suburbia, and the pool companies are everywhere tending to their season opening rituals. There is great hope amongst the denizens of my neighbourhood that this summer will be a more accommodating one than last when we only had two, count 'em two, swimmable days. So, my excitement was at peak levels when my pool guys showed up Tuesday to clean and open our small piece of backyard heaven.

It's never easy is it? I wasn't here when they arrived for the annual opening and what I returned to later in the day certainly didn't resemble anything close to a swimmable pool. The water could be charitably described as chocolate milk brown, although I preferred the comparison to a toilet that has been left un-flushed for several weeks. Yes, it was that bad. The Husband, who is meticulous in his pool maintenance, almost keeled over from an aneurysm when he espied the sludge that these idiots left us. An immediate phone call was placed to said idiots and they promised an immediate and prompt response. Thursday morning (perhaps not quite as immediate nor prompt as we might have hoped) saw Jeremy the pool boy on my doorstep.

Jeremy: "Just checked the pool, ma'am." (I loathe it when 25 years olds call me ma'am. Do I look like a ma'am?)

Me: "And???"

Jeremy: "It's the colour of chocolate milk, ma'am."

Me: "Really?? You don't say."

Jeremy: "Never have seen a pool that colour before."

Me: "Really?? You don't say."

Jeremy: "How did that happen?"

Me: "You're kidding, right?"

Jeremy: "Was there a leak in the winter cover?"

Me: "Not according to your invoice, but I suppose anything is possible." (An aside-The idiots left an invoice stating that the winter cover was in perfect condition.) "What now?"

Jeremy: "Dunno. I think you should try backwashing in twice a day and shock the shit out of it."

Me: "Will that work?"

Jeremy: "Dunno. Try for 4-5 days."

Me: "And when the inevitable occurs and the water is still the colour of the oil-soaked Gulf Coast?"

Jeremy: "Call us."

I informed The Husband as to the sage advice of the pool moron and he figured we may as well try. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. After day one, the pool changed from chocolate milk to algae pond scum green. Day two has seen the green lighten to the hue of Mountain Dew. Tomorrow is anybody guess. Snot chartreuse with a side of lemonade, perhaps?

The pool idiots called yesterday to enquire after our sorry toxic waste. The lovely lady on the phone explained to me that if we can't clear up the mess on our own, they will send over their super special secret chemical master. I have this image of a wild-eyed Timothy Leary-like gent, weighed down by the scent of chlorine and bromine. What he might conjure up is anybody's guess. I will keep you all posted.
In the meantime, I was thinking that those poor birds down in Louisiana might like to park it up here at my place for a few days. It may be disgusting, but it has to be better than what they are living with down there. Everybody into the pool!!