Once we decided to pursue the thoroughly impractical plan
of installing a pool in our backyard, my husband insisted that we had to do it now.
He hoped to have a couple months to swim before the thing covered over with ice
this winter. I pushed to do more research and price shopping. My argument was
that the pool might be cheaper in the off-season, so we should wait until
Christmas. Or maybe Christmas 2025. But no. My husband has never been much for comparison shopping. It
was off to the pool store.
It's strange to recall what my yard used to look like. I miss grass. |
We liked the idea of buying from a company that had a
physical location where we could get a feel for what's available and where we
could picket in the parking lot if things go horribly awry with our project. Spoiler
Alert: There have been many times throughout this project when that fact has
given me comfort and allowed me to fall asleep.
This pool store we visited had actual pools installed
on the property. They were beautiful, clean, clear, and made you want to jump in. However, the sheer size and scope of the pumps,
filters, gadgets, and other assorted knobs and hoses gave me pause. If
anything, the complicated set-ups made the pools more attractive to my husband.
He's a guy, after all, so he's attracted to bells and whistles on a genetic
level.
While admiring the displays, we learned about the joy
of pools with vinyl liners. We'd only been in public in-ground pools before, so
we were used to the scratchy concrete-feeling sides. But vinyl is smooth and it
has a little give to it. It feels nice on your hands and feet. The fact that it's also cheaper than the gunite and fiberglass options was a huge
bonus. And don't get me started on the advantage of not having a crane lift a fiberglass
shell over my house. Apparently that's how you get a fiberglass pool into a
suburban backyard. No matter how careful they are, I envision that thing
breaking free and landing in my living room.
Next time: We consult a professional.
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