The Weir Door Gurgles

I can't go to Krispy Kreme, until I take care of the pool drain. I know I'm going to be sitting outside forever. Lying on this concrete. Next to this burbling hole. Getting up the nerve to remove the cover and discover what's inside, while my friends wait for me.

It's my job to empty the skimmer. Once a week, I come out here and do battle with my fears. I come out here to engage in psychological warfare. It takes me hours, sometimes days of emotional commitment to empty the skimmer basket.

It's warm. No, it's hot. It's hot and sticky here. It's always hot and sticky here. This is Northwest Florida...which is to say this is "Sourthern" Florida. This is the place where every oak tree is draped in Spanish Moss and every spoken word is draped in southern drawl. This is the place where the beaches are unimaginably beautiful. Where the sand is sugar white. It is a place where it is tropical and wet. It's the kinda place where the residents have good, down home, country fun at the annual Roach Rodeo.

Which is what I have every time I have to empty this fucking skimmer basket.

I stick my finger in the lid, praying to The Lord I believe in at these times that there will be no Roach clinging to its underside. I lift it up slowly, ready to frisbee this fucker if necessary.

So far so good.

Looking down into the basket, the horrors swirl round and round while the weir door gurgles. The roaches cling for their lives on bobbing, bloated toads. The scope of my mission is taken in and understood.

The skimmer basket's handle broke long ago and I must time the submersion of my hand just right. For, when my arm is perceived as the ladder to salvation (and it always is), I have very little time. Just moments to grasp the edge of the basket and lift it exactly, EXACTLY straight up without any tilt and fling it to the other side of the yard. If it gets jammed, if I am slowed down to any degree, I will be swarmed.

I have to be like Papillon. Studying the tide, aborting countless attempts, so that I know just when to throw my bag of coconuts into the water to escape Devil's Island and go eat donuts with my friends.