Lil Jan and I have worked tirelessly for weeks to get our Fishhawk home ready for closing today. We had a massive yard sale. We moved all our remaining stuff out. I did a final lawn mowing and hedge trimming. We hired someone to do a final cleaning of the house and carpets. We even had the driveway and sidewalks pressure washed. We were exhausted, but the house and yard looked great, and we were ready for closing. Or so we thought.
Last night I took a final load of stuff to my parents’ condo in Port Charlotte. While there, I received a text from Karen, our awesome realtor. She had just done a final walk-through of the house and said it looked great, but noticed some sand at the bottom of the pool. She explained that the buyer was pretty picky, and may take issue with closing on a house that had a pool that wasn’t completely clean. I reluctantly agreed, realizing she had our best interest at heart and not wanting any issues at closing. I told her I would vacuum the pool upon returning that night.
I arrived back at the completely empty house at 10:15pm and walked back to the lanai. I turned the pump on and prepared the hoses and such. Our pool setup is such that it is best to do the vacuuming while in the pool, especially to get sand at the bottom. But it occurred to me that the only clothes I had were the clothes I was wearing.
I surveyed the scene. Full hedges blocked the view of our neighbors to the right. Our neighbors to the left had a partial view but are typically in bed at that hour…or at least not in their back yard looking at my lanai. What to do? The pool had to be cleaned. Closing was the next day. With a determination and rational/logical assessment that only my fellow ENTJs could appreciate, I developed a plan which went something like this:
1) turn off all the lights
2) go to the edge of the pool and prepare to unclothe
3) realize you can’t see the sand with the pool light off; so get up and turn just the pool light on
4) go back to the edge of the pool and take a deep breath; play “I Lived” by One Republic on iPhone at low volume for inspiration
5) quickly and fully disrobe
6) roll over into the pool, sort of like a manatee being released into the wild after being treated at a marine life sanctuary
7) hit the water and do an immediate 180-degree turn to put the bare backside toward the pool light, keeping the more sensitive regions in the shadows where they belong
8) wonder just for a moment if this is some sort of sick practical joke by Karen the Realtor
9) vacuum as quickly and efficiently as possible while striding across the pool; try to stay bitter and resist any thoughts that “this is actually kind of refreshing”
10) step and roll out of pool (not unlike the “drop and roll” that is recommended when one is on fire)
11) dry off with shirt, then clothe self with remaining dry clothes; drive home to RV, arriving shirtless and proud
12) close on house, and walk away with fond memories of the final pool cleaning
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