My pool is a major source of drama in my life. First of all, I should explain that the pool is the centerpiece to my backyard. I have two floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the pool for anyone in my living room. At night, the pool radiates sexy blue light into my backyard. I call this “Miami Vice lighting.” And I like it.

(Since I’m on the subject, I was never able watch Miami Vice when it originally aired in the 80s. I suspect that my parents believed it was too titillating for my young eyes. From the commercials I knew that the show about cool guys who drove cool cars with pretty girls. And every scene had a neon sign. And I liked it. There were two occasions over the last five years when I was feeling nostalgic for the 80s, and I recorded two random episode with Tivo. The first episode was kind of cool, a mafia episode set in Cuba. The second episode–recorded 3 years later–was not cool because it was the same episode from before. What are the chances? It’s like asking a girl out on a date, only to realize you two already dated in high school.)

So anyway, my pool adds a good vibe to my backyard, especially at night. The next afternoon when it’s hot, the pool is a fantastic way to cool off. But for the past month, I have not enjoyed either aspect of the pool. Because it was green, green, and green. I say that three times because three times I applied the $50 concoction of medicine from the pool store (as prescribed by the all-knowing pool store employees) and all three times it did absolutely nothing. Green. Green. Green. Do you know how much that sucks?; After the third batch of medicine, the pool looked as bad as when I did absolutely nothing. All that responsible action and no results. It hurt my self esteem.

Tired of losing the fight, I decided to drain the pool on Saturday morning. This is one of those rites of adulthood that is intimidating because it’s something I’ve never done before.; Who knows what could happen? What if I burn out the pool pump? What if I drain the pool and there’s a dead ox in the bottom?

With half the water gone on Monday, I suspected that the pool pump didn’t have the muscle to suck all that water out of the hole. Dennis at the pool store confirmed this: “Draining your 20,000 gallon pool with that little pump is like driving in reverse for 20,000 miles. You could do it, but it doesn’t mean you should.” How can you argue with that? I just wish he imparted the same Confucian wisdom when he prescribed chlorine doses last month. So that night I went to Home Depot and rented a drop-in pool pump.

This was a pretty cool machine. It’s the size of a fire extinguisher and has an electric cord and a fireman’s hose that come out of the top. I held the hose in one hand and the electric cord in the other, then kicked the pump into the pool. It soon disappeared into the green lagoon. Seconds after I plugged the cord into the wall, the water surface started to ripple as the fire hose torqued and inflated with water. Then the end of the hose exploded with gallons of water.

All of a sudden I had a pool pump and a pressure washer. This was a rare opportunity to clean off my patio, so I dragged that water-breathing dragon to the far side of the patio near the yard, then steadily sprayed the dust off the concrete towards the half-empty pool. Within five minutes, I pushed the muddy waterfall over the pool wall.

It was pretty fun. I wish I had friends over because we could’ve squirted each other or played rodeo games. But it was just me standing in the dark of the night, dripping wet and satisfied that something was about to finally change. The greenish brown water would soon be gone.

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I told myself that when I grew up, I’d buy a house with a pool, and then drain it so I could use it exclusively for skateboarding. I thought about the girls that I wanted sitting on the edge watching me and my friends do cool tricks. What could be better in life? This fantasy was not my own. It was modeled after the opening scene of thee 1991 skateboarding movie Gleaming the Cube with Christian Slater. I envied the rowdy teenagers that had enough courage to find an empty pool in their home town and claim it as their own little skate park. I knew I could never be that reckless with someone else’s home, but converting my own swimming pool into a skating pool would work.

Here was my chance, and I couldn’t do it. My friend Jeff warned me early in the project that the plaster could be damaged if I took too long to fill the pool back up with water. If the plaster was that sensitive to fresh air, I can’t imagine it could’ve held up to the abuse of a skateboard. I could damage the plaster and then have to pay some company $3000 to redo the whole thing. It’s a lot easier for me to go to a skate park five miles from my house. Or maybe take the $3000 saved and start a real skate park on the other side of my yard (sometime not now.)

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With each new day of adulthood, I realize there are inescapable chores that will follow me through every year of life. For most of the years since college, I’ve hoped that if I could just get done with my current to-do list, a new life of leisure or adventure–my pick–would be ready for me the next day. Since this new life has yet to happen, I realize I need to adjust my attitude.

So last night I pulled my humble garden hose from the wall and stretched it to the edge of the empty pool. It was a gentle moment after such a dramatic week of work and worry. Just for fun, I walked down the pool steps and sat in the shallow end to watch the deep end slowly fill with fresh water. I laid down and looked up at the autumn stars through the palm trees. I just laid there, quiet, enjoying the solitude. I laughed at the thought of me pretending to be a fireman the night before. I smiled knowing that the battle with the pool was over, and it was okay to relax.

This is life, and it’s the only one I have. So I need to enjoy it and appreciate it for what it is.