It was hottish today, so I thought I’d get out the pool for Baby D. I went through many, many pools with Colin. We have an uneven back yard and I was always looking for one that would — what? Make the yard even? I don’t know. Our pools always have a deep end and depending on where you put them, they can have a really deep end. So, anyway, I went to the pool graveyard and I only had two choices. One has sides that are held up by the water and therefore collapse. (Difficult to get in and out of when you are two feet high.) The other was, apparently, something I thought would be big enough for a floaty or something for myself. It was huge. As I recall it took an entire day to inflate and fill and Colin and I went in it once. Nope. Off to my local Pamida I went.
Now usually I travel to the next, larger town to go to Target. I am a Minnesotan. We go to Target. It had better be pretty cheap to make us go to the Southerners’ store — Wal Mart. I did not have energy to go to the next town, so I went to our little Pamidaa which, I swear, is straight out of a Twilight Zone episode. I am always a little afraid to go in. Perhaps I will not come out. I went in there one time and I saw no one. No one. Not a shopper. Not a clerk. Not a pasty looking stock boy. No one. Fortunately they did not have what I was looking for and so I just left.
Since all I needed was one baby pool, I thought it would be all right. Baby D and I drove up and looked at there inventory. All they had was big pools and one with a little canopy thing. After a painful checkout, we took the pool home and I started to blow the thing up. While I was working on it Baby D went inside with Colin and pulled five keys off my keyboard. I got it put together, found a flattish spot in the lawn, filled it up with water, put the boys in swimsuits, got toys from the bathroom and . . . it started to rain. We came inside and played camping instead. So much for the pool.