Pool woes

When I was a kid in Brooklyn, our neighbors on Sackman Street (Paula and Augie) had one of those above ground pools. Because our backyard and theirs was only separated by a chain link fence, it was easy for me to climb it and use their pool at will, which was OK with Augie, but not OK with Paula, which was a weird thing, because she was always feeding me alongside her kids, as she was a stay-at-home-mom, while my Mom had a job as a seamstress at one of the nearby factories that used to exist in Brooklyn where people like my Mom would work and get paid by what was then called "piece work."

But Augie was the one always working and doing stuff all year round to keep the pool working for those really hot NY summers, although he really hated me dive-bombing into the pool from the second floor fire escape ladder... you had to be good, and sort of belly-flop the water entry (the pool was only around five feet deep), otherwise you'd break your legs or seriously pop your knee caps. But Augie loved kids enjoying his pool!

Anyway, when I was house-hunting last year, I quickly discovered that houses in Media, PA are a lot more affordable than Potomac, MD, so I ended up in a cool house. And yet I was reticent to sign up, because the house came with a pool.

Pools are money pits.

And we quickly discovered that this pool, like many other pools, an hour after the warranties expire, leak. It's hard to hold water in a concrete bubble.

First estimates to fix the pool came in around a ton of money... as time went by, and more and more crap was removed from the pool (apparently built somewhere in the 60s) the "this-is-what's-wrong" stuff kept piling up and now we're up to around two tons of money and I am one good drunk away from filling the fucking thing with soil and planting pachysandras in the hole.