Actually, I was still in bed, half asleep from antihistamine taken at far to late an hour before bed, when the pool filter clicked on, and I heard, not the customary bubbling and whirring, but a sound rather like a flushing toilet.

“This is not good!” I informed Zorro and Cleo, who looked at me with slitty eyes, as I left the bed and threw on ratty sweats, so that I could go out to the pool filter and check on things.

Note to self: when walking across lava rocks, wearing shoes is a wise choice.

The stepping stones that lead through the lava-rock landscaping and trailing ivy to the pool filter were immersed in six inches of cold chlorinated water (it felt lovely on my feet, actually), and more was flowing from the intake pipe – the pipe that filters hose water, and is responsible for automatically maintaining the water level of the pool – and the filter cannister was lying on the ground.

I managed to stop MOST of the water, and reduce the pressure enough to turn off the filter, but then I resorted to calling Fuzzy home from work, because I just wasn’t strong enough to turn the stop-cock on the water hose.

We’ve put in a call to our Home Warranty company (note to any who own real estate: if you do not have a home warranty, get one, if you have one, and it comes due for renewal, DO IT. If, as I suspect, we need a new pump for the pool, our total outlay will be $50 because we made sure the pool was ON the home warranty), which, in turn, send out a call to a local company to come look at the stuff. But they haven’t come yet. I’ll be following up in the morning, of course.

In the meantime, I can’t turn on the ppol filter because I can’t figure out how to bypass the intake pipe.

ARGH.

The vinyl pool was SO much easier to take care of.

On the up-side, the chlorinated water will kill all the weeds.