Today two young men came to put in our new pool liner. Big Dave said that they did an excellent job although one of them was hired just yesterday and was primarily about as useful as I am during any given emergency. Meaning what? I have "Prissy from 'Gone With the Wind' Syndrome"...which basically just means that when adult rational thought is needed to deal with someone obviously needing medical care, I "don't know nothing 'bout...(fill in the blank...whatever.)" Trust me on this. If you are having personal difficulties and need someone to have your back...I'm there. But if you hurt your back and are having difficulty...enter Prissy. I could take CPR until the end of time, and I'd still be about as helpful as gout.
Anyway, the one experienced guy managed to get it done in spite of Mr. Untrained, and according to Big Dave, there isn't a single wrinkle in the liner. This totally rocks, by the way, because our last liner had a couple that we didn't notice until the pool had been in the ground for six months. That's because we put the pool in sometime in early December because we could get a better price. Who knew that the wrinkles were thrown in for free?
We're currently refilling the pool with a hose...and should have it looking somewhat close to normal by sometime tomorrow. Well, if your view of "normal" is a huge bright blue hole where a light blue one existed before. So, in case you swore you heard the Hallelujah Chorus about noon today...it wasn't a flash mob...it was us...in spirit anyway.
Getting the pool liner replaced was "Job One" this year. Last year, Big Dave discovered that we had a leak in the liner because he was having to put water in the pool every day. We thought we'd get it replaced last year...but with one child in college and one more year of private school tuition ahead of us for the other...we opted to just take our chances with it. No, those $150 water bills were no problem at all. *sarcasm*
This year, the pool started showing a few obvious "you will replace this liner and you will like it" signs like sagging, a few holes and the LeSeuer pea green color that just screamed...
"You might be a redneck if your cement pond looks like a septic tank."
We ordered the liner the week that we got the tax refund. Oh, I see some of you out there wanting to tell me that I need to not let the government use my money for a year interest free, but frankly, this has been the first year that the refund has not gone straight to school tuition since 1997. We figured...why bother changing anything?
We're pretty excited that we have the pool situation worked out...although the liner Big Dave chose is extremely blue with some nice tan accents to make it look a little more natural. As if that is even remotely possible. This shade of blue is the same that that god-awful field at Boise State is painted...and is the color that my 60" Sony TV screen is currently becoming due to some seriously flawed engineering.
The problems with the set have come on gradually over time but went into overdrive when we replaced the bulb in January. According to the over 5,000 people on the "I Have a Defective Sony" Facebook page, it is whack because of something blah-blah-blah electronic blah-blah-blah optical block...whatever that is. The other problem associated with these sets is that the lamp door just melts. Yeah, that's comforting.
Fortunately, we don't have that problem...yet. The blue doesn't really bother me so much as I grew up watching black and white TV pre-cable. However, I just can't help thinking that this is some kind of bad karma from all of my excessive whining about Boise State last Fall during football season. I'm totally kidding. *nervous laughter*
The next project we have is to get the driveway fixed. We have a gravel driveway because we just thought it would be cool (cheap) to do that. Over the past ten years, the gravel has receded to such a point that we are now driving on clay (dirt) in some places. Big Dave keeps telling me that he'll get to it...someday. And here I sit...the contractor's wife...with no driveway.
On the other hand, nobody can really see the driveway because we currently have seven cars and a trailer full of building materials that Big Dave needs to cart off parked outside. Just so you know...there are three drivers currently living under this roof. Apparently, we are the "Hotel California" of cars. "you can stop running whenever you like...but you can never leave."
I'm so not kidding.
Although I am about to have to get serious about shedding one of the cars very, very soon. I just got our insurance bill that includes the 2008 Tiburon. Let's just say that I'd better get busy eBaying or donating plasma.
Once these big jobs are completed, Big Dave wants to turn our garage (home to spiders, the cat, and until last night...an opossum...) into a "man cave." In our brilliant drawing of the house (on a napkin at 6:00 a.m. sometime back in 1999)...we failed to consider that we might actually one day like to have a dining room (actual room) in our open floor plan. So, he wants to move the family room into the garage and the dining room table out of the breakfast area into there, and then get the breakfast table out of our bedroom.
Yes...I inherited furniture in 2006 due to multiple downsizing/cleaning out/moving to our camper decisions made by various relatives...and I took it all. Had I had a clue in 1999 that I would inherit dining room furniture, I assure you I'd have planned better. But everything fit in the breakfast area (hey, I told you it was an open floor plan)...except the maple table that Big Dave and his brother, Bill, made by hand. I couldn't part with that! No, no, no. So, it had to be moved to the only place large enough to house it...that's right...my bedroom. I've been using it as a scrapbooking station for the past five years...but of late it has just become the dumping ground for all things random. Every so often I go in there and clean it off and within 24 hours...it's worse. Perhaps it is "pre-'Hoarders' syndrome" or something. I know that the rest of my family is seriously afflicted with it.
I sound like a total hypochondriac, don't I?
Well, the one affliction that I'd been really worried about because of all of the above was "whitetrashness." The pool liner, driveway, cars, and bizarre furniture placement were beginning to convince me that I was about halfway to leaving up my Christmas lights year round and looking up recipes for the opossum that Big Dave and Brian shot last night. Thankfully, the pool liner being replaced feels like I was thrown a lifeline.
Of course, our dogs are named Rebel and Dixie and the twelve puppies they had were all named after country singers. But no, we don't have a confederate flag taped to the garage, and I haven't put a smoking cowboy silhouette in my yard...yet.