If you wanna feel better about your family, just read about ours...

Starring: a dad, a mom, a son & daughter-in-law, a daughter & son-in-law, a teen, a tween, 1 grandson, 3 granddaughters, 4 dogs, and a whole lot of love.





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Thursday, April 17, 2014

{{{HOT}}} Tub

Once upon a time, there was a wonderful generous husband who bought his wife a hot tub, it was delivered to their home, they plugged it in by the pool and they lived happily ever after.  The End.

If anything in our lives ever goes so smoothly, I'll be rendered speechless.  But in the meantime, I blog.

The story begins accurately.  There was a wonderful generous husband who bought his wife a hot tub. 
And then things went all...'Courter-Style.'

The purchasing of the hot tub went exactly as I'd expected.  Meaning, the salesman made an immediate (bordering on creepy) connection with my husband and began telling him his life story, complete with a mid-sentence belch, followed by his detailed explanation of the spicy sub he ate for lunch.  I'm so accustomed to people latching onto my husband's ear that I never leave home without a library book and have no problem making myself comfortable until their lengthy convo finally comes to a blessed end.  (You might be surprised to learn I'm not what you'd call a people-person...more details on that coming soon to a blog near you.)  Two hours of reading later, Ron was helping me out of the display model and we were on our way.

The delivery date arrived, but the hot tub did not.  We did however receive a phone call from the delivery company asking us if our hot tub would break if they turned it on it's side.  Let's not find out, okay?  The pool company intervened and successfully delivered our hot tub, right side up, the following day.  I answered the door in my pajamas, because I didn't realize I'd need to answer the door at all, but apparently they needed me to show them where it goes.  "See that brand new giant plastic outlet box on the back of the garage?  Well, there it goes."  And my fuzzy flannel Hello Kitty jammies and I bolted back inside.

That night, Ron filled the hot tub, put the chemicals in, and cranked it to 105.
...And then it heated up and we lived happily ever after.  

In your world, maybe.  Not mine.  In my world, I suggested to Kearstin that we go outside and feel the water the next day.  In my world, I unclipped the lid and watched the steam rise from the beautiful clear water.  In my world, I plunged my entire arm deep within the inviting surface.  And then my world got jolted with volts of electricity that started with my arm and ended with a thump in my chest that landed me straight on my ass with a thud beside my hot tub.  It was my unremembered scream of profanity that stopped Kearstin barely fingertip deep and spared her the electricity-induced backward flight to the ground. 
You're welcome.

To add insult to injury, I looked down to see a bloody gnawed off raccoon paw that our dog brought in from the fields laying right beside my hand.  (Cue profanity #2 and violent gagging.)
Welcome to my world.

Ron arrived home from work and said he'd check it out.  And by "check it out" he meant taking off the cover and plunging both of his arms into the water.  And to my surprise and horror, he not only stayed on his feet, but yelled, "It's fine!  Come try it!!"  And then he tried to convince Kearstin and I that we didn't really get shocked.  "The water was probably just sooo hot" he said, as he happily splashed his arms around.  Hey super-mudder, I don't know why you're not lying in a pile of your own drool right now, but not on your freakin life am I putting my body or any of my children into that hell tub.  Then I glanced down at the rubber soled boots on his feet. 

A minute later, my barefoot husband stuck his hand in the water, yelled "son of a ....!" and started making phone calls.  That's better.

The electrician came the following day and fixed the problem.  It seems there was a broken ground.  (Referring to wires within our walls, not the spot on the concrete where my butt landed.)

Friday, two guys from the pool company showed up to make sure it wasn't a malfunction with the tub itself.  They knocked on the door and called me outside.  They showed me how they tested the water with their fancy machinery and said "it all looks good" and tried to convince me that it was safe to use and one even tried to get me to touch the water.  I firmly explained that he will never get me or my fuzzy Hello Kitty jammies anywhere near that water.

Then he asked me, "What do I need to do to convince you to use this hot tub your husband bought you?"
I glanced down at his boots.  Well, since you're asking...

Two minutes later, his young assistant was hesitantly stripping off his boots and socks, stepping into a puddle of rainwater and hovering his arms over the hot tub trying desperately to look confident about what he was about to do while I moved off to the side so he wouldn't land on me in a heap of chattering teeth and steaming flesh.  (When it comes to electricity, you can never be too dramatic.)  Just as his fingertips touched the water, the other guy...the one willing to sacrifice his own assistant...made a loud "ZZZZZT" noise from his mouth.  I'm not sure who crapped their pants worse, but my money's on the assistant who jerked his arms out of the water faster than I covered my head with my hands and screamed.

I informed 'zzzt guy' that he's a terrible human being because I felt like he had a right to know.  He said, "I have an ex-wife who'd completely agree with you."  I didn't find that news anywhere near as shocking as the tub of death we'd just purchased for our backyard.

But all hope is not lost.  One week later, there is finally a happy ending to this Courter-Style fairy tail:

....and then her wonderful generous husband bought her something to put her mind at ease and she donned her rubber swim fins and floated happily ever after.  The End. 
Well, hopefully not the end end, ya know?