"Anyone who would buy a house on the same street as a chlorine factory is an idiot. Except you, of course." - Red Green, The Red Green Show
Even Bigfoot knows to wear his safety glasses when adding chlorine to the pool.
I don’t know about you, but I seem to write much better with Brian Johnson asking me to stand up and be counted, for what I’m about to receive. As long as Brian remembered to put the e before the i in receive, well, it all works out.
I apologize that The Boy had to write last week’s missive, but it seemed like that he was the better person to tell the tale. Thankfully, that was a one week thing. Because today I’m not sure that he could even see the monitor from a two-inch distance.
Let me explain . . .
We have a pool down in Texas. I think even homeless illegal immigrants named Darth Vader from the Planet Vulcan in Betelgeuse-B have pools down in Texas. I IM’d him. He does. From the Second Book of Supertramp (King James Brown Edition): “Yea, verily mother, they must havest them in Texas, for there all art millionaires.”
I grabbed my trusty knife and slashed open a bag of granulated chlorine. I began to dump same into the pool. The Boy popped up behind me, like some evil Lord of the Rings™ reference that I can’t really recall since I’m not twelve anymore. The Boy said, “Can I help?”
Evil, evil The Boy.
I had a second bag of sweet, sweet chlorine that I gave The Boy after slashing it open with my knife. He began broadcasting the sweet, sweet chlorine along the edge of the pool. No problem, right?
Occasionally (really, really occasionally) there is a gust of wind in Houston. One of the aforesaid mentioned gusts showed up. Right then. Flicked a granule of chlorine in The Boy’s direction. Specifically? Right into his eye. He whined. In my day, we loved having chlorine in our eyes. It was the fashion of the day. That and an onion tied to our belts. Because Grover Cleveland always did it. Don’t ask. I told him to get into the shower to get the chlorine out of his eye. As I walked in, I saw him standing with his back to the shower head, washing his hiney.
As most people know, taking a shower to get chlorine out of your eye involves very little butt-washing. We worked together (after various threats on my part) to get the actual eye under the water. After I got The Boy to actually start flushing his own eye with water, I went to fess up to The Mrs. . . . who was also in the shower. The Mrs. was less than pleased, but I think The Mrs. gives me slack sometimes because The Mrs. loves me.
“Umm, The Boy might have gotten a chlorine granule into his eye. I might have opened the bag for him. We may go to the doctor.”
We did. At the doctor’s we found we’d done it all right, and then they went to check one of The Boy’s eyes against the other they found that both of them were 20/50.
I lent him my glasses on the way home. He said he could see Mars in HD.
“Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t see?”
“I didn’t know.”
I would have given him more abuse, but I recalled seeing a crisp mountain on a spring day with my first pair of glasses. I hadn’t heard the term before, but HD is right.
Who knew that trees had leaves???