Keeping my cool

It was hot and sunny yesterday. Perfect swimming weather. I glared balefully over the fence at our neighbours, frolicking in their pool. They laughed, they splashed. I resented their watery happiness. The Sprogs gazed longingly over the fence at the neighbours, frolicking in their pool. I handed them water pistols and told them to suck it up. Friends came over for parched, pool-less drinks. They gazed longingly at the neighbours, frolicking in their pool. They suggested I make friends with the neighbours (while secretly wishing they were friends with the neighbours). I keenly felt my inadequacy as a host. The perfect host would provide a pool for her guests on a hot day. I want to be that perfect host, with that perfect pool. But Husband has 50 million reasons why we shouldn’t get a pool. He’s quite adamant about every single one of those reasons. They include …
1. We can’t afford one.
2. They’re too much work.
3. There’s no sun in our backyard.
4. They’re not environmentally friendly.
5. We have a jacaranda that would shed blossoms, leaves and branches into it.
6. We have a crepe myrtle that would shed blossoms, leaves and branches into it.
7. We live in a one in 100-year flood zone.
8. They’re too expensive to heat, clean and chlorinate.
Etc etc etc. Blah, blah, blah. That doesn’t stop me going outside each week with a tape measure to plot pool positions, then going back inside to gaze longingly at my favourite pool websites. I’ve even had a few quotes, which is pretty pointless considering we don’t have any money to follow up on our interest. Undeterred – and being a consummate long-term planner – I’ve been working on Husband to cut down the jacaranda (to provide both extra pool length and less pool cleaning). I’ve become a bit Munchausen By Proxy about the jacaranda (without the deliberate poisoning bit). I keep pointing out its rotting limbs and exaggerating any signs of ill health. In the meantime, I’m eyeing off the house down the street. It’s been for sale for a very long time. No one lives in it. It has a very nice pool out the back. I want to commandeer it for the summer. But the Sprogs have better moral compasses than me and keep insisting it’s wrong. We will get caught. We will get into trouble. Even Husband is a complete downer, saying they won’t be checking their acid levels (or whatever it is you do to keep pool water safe). But how dangerous can it be? I’m telling you, if it’s hot tomorrow, I’m there.

TONIGHT’S DINNER: Sausage sizzle at the local bowling club. All class.