I’ll bet you that my garbage is more interesting than your garbage today…
Let’s set the scene. For starters, I’m getting just a teensy bit tired of all of this precipitation. It’s been raining in Jersey for the past several weeks, with little peeks of overcast sunshine visible for brief fifteen-minute periods every four days or so.
Two weeks ago, during one of these breathing spells, I decided that I had better get off of my duff and remove the cover from the pool. You see, I believe quite strongly that it is un-American to have a covered pool after Memorial day.
I got the cover off (an unpleasant all-evening ordeal that involves cleaning off all of the crap that fell on it over the winter). With great joy I observed that the water was relatively clear – last year it was black, with little wriggly worms in it. I then noticed that the water level was about six inches too low to start the pump. Perhaps the cover was porous and allowed some of the pool water to evaporate over the winter. No big deal. It started raining again, so I decided to leave the job half-done until it stopped raining.
A week and a half passed.
Finally we got another brief glimpse of sun. I quickly raced to the pool to finish the job I had started several days before. Much to my amazement, the water was precisely at the fill line. At least six inches of water had fallen in the intervening days. That’s several hundred gallons of water that fell in the pool. I tossed the thermometer into the water and it registered 62 degrees. That’s almost shirtsleeve weather if you’re talking air temperature, but I’d worry about my heart stopping if I dove into the water at that temperature.
Ok. I didn’t have to fill it after all. The good Lord did it for me. I put all of the drain plugs and fittings back in place on the pump and filter. I said a brief prayer and threw the switch. It purred to life! I threw in a couple of bags of shock and went inside.
Then the rain started to fall.
This evening, after driving through forty-degree drizzling rain to get home on this fine JUNE day, I decided that I had better check the basket of the filtration system for debris. I went out there and found two surprises:
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The water had risen another two inches. You aren’t supposed to have to drain water from a pool in June. It just ain’t right. If anything, you usually have to add a inch per week for evaporation.
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There were three dead chipmunks in the skimmer. Three of them!
As the cold mist beads up on the shoulders of my authentic A2 avaiator’s jacket, I calmly reach for the leaf skimmer pole, with the intent of using it to transfer the three cold corpses into a rustling yellow plastic ShopRite bag that seems far too thin and fragile for the task. I cast a brief glance at the bottom of the pool, illuminated in the cloud-covered twilight. There’s a scattering of twigs and leaves, hardly unexpected after two weeks of rain and no cleaning, and, is that a rabbit??? Sonofagun. Laying on its side, on the bottom of the deep end, and it’s a big 'un.
I finish depositing the chipmunks in the plastic sack. As I handle the leaf skimmer, it strikes the concrete and some droplets of water that were on it spray into the air, a few droplets land in my left eye. I can only hope that it was dampness that was on the leaf skimmer prior to its current task.
I now turn my attention to the dark shape at the bottom of the deep end. In the cold rain, I grasp the slippery plastic collar that locks the pole’s extension mechanism. I give it a twist and draw the leaf skimmer to its full length. I walk over to where the diving board should be (it’s still not set up) and plunge the net into the frigid water. As the net reaches the bottom, I realize with horror that the animal is larger than the net. After two false attempts, I succeed in shoving the net under the dark mass and I begin to lift it up. The pole is extended about twelve feet, so when it achieves the horizontal, I’m straining to lift the waterlogged corpse at the end of a twelve-foot cantilever.
Finally, I lay the leaf skimmer to rest, beside the grocery bag that contains the chipmunks. The rabbit is plump. It’s eyes are looking at me. It’s fully extended, so I don’t know if it will fit in the bag, and I shudder at the thought of using a plastic-bag-wrapped hand to adjust the limbs.
After a brief struggle, where one of the chipmunks almost escapes, I manage to place all four animals in the same bag.
I quickly tie the bag tight and reach for a second sack. The one in my hand is leaking, so I take special care while placing it in the second sack. I tie that one tight and then place it within a third sack, which I tie very carefully.
Now, I am able to walk through the house, carrying the bundle, to reach the front, where we stage our garbage. As I am standing on the porch, gazing at the trash cans, I notice another similar bundle lying on the rocks. Flashback to two weeks ago: a parakeet had expired and two lovely children had removed the poor thing from the cage and lefts its corpse in state on a nearby bookshelf. A few days passed. I noticed a pungent stench and quickly located the liquefying body. I hastily triple-bagged it and put it outside to await a proper funeral.
Now, as I observe the rain beating on the plastic wrapping of the bird’s body, I decide that one big bag of dead animals is better than two little ones. I get a tall kitchen trash bag and place the two bundles within. After tying it up extra carefully, I place it within the trash can. The garbage men come on Friday :).
I know that some things are best left unspoken, but I let it slip. I mention the rabbit to my wife. She gives me a sad puppy-dog look and her eyes become shiny as she says “I hope it wasn’t the one I saw this morning – he was so cute, nibbling the grass by the pool…”
I have two more bags of shock I am planning on dumping in the water as soon as the rain tapers off. If it tapers off.
That’s why I have five dead animals in my garbage tonight and why am wondering why I don’t just fill in the pool for good.