Flotsam and Rugsam

An update on the free hot tub situation: it is IN. Not in the garage,
but under the back porch. That's really a better location than it
sounds like...once we clean up the other treasures that are stored
there. A couple nights ago, #1 son called for me to come out and
look at it. It looked new. It was shiny white inside, with wooden
trim on the outside.

"Why does it smell like chlorine?"
"I put some bleach in it to clean it."
"It looks clean."
"I'm going to drain the water out. I didn't know it had to be level.
It's about an inch off."
"This looks good. Better than I thought."
"You can get in it, Mom."
"Not now! It's freezing!"
"I don't mean NOW. Later, in the summer. You said that you'd
never get in it. But now that you say it looks nice, maybe you'll
get in."
"I MIGHT."

I had no reason to doubt that the free hot tub needed to be leveled.
It is totally like my Hillbilly Husband to install something without
reading directions. Then yesterday morning, I found out his ulterior
motive. As we were getting ready to leave for school, I heard the
free hot tub bubbling.

"Why did Dad leave the hot tub on? I thought he was draining the
water to level it."
"He's cleaning it, Mom."
"He put bleach in it last night. How clean does it have to be?"
"Well, after he filled it up...when he first turned on the jets...a big
wad of black hair shot out of it. So then he poured in the bleach."
"Ewww! I'm going to be sick! Who took it out?"
"You mean the wad of black hair?"
"Stop saying that! My stomach is churning! Yes! What else would
I be talking about?"
"Nobody took out the big wad of hair. It sucked back in. Dad said
he'd let the filter take care of it."
"Ewww! I'm going to vomit! My mouth is getting all watery! The
filter didn't take care of it in those 10 years the OTHER people had
it! I'm NEVER getting in!"
"MOM! It's JUST hair!"

Ahem. I do not want my tender parts exposed to water with other
people's 10-year-old hair dissolved in it. That is just NASTY! I
have a problem with other people's cast-off hair...and skin...and
TOENAILS! What, you ask? TOENAILS? Where did that come
from? No, they were not in the free hot tub. That just reminded me
of another story...

When I bought my old house, my $17,900 house, we had some
work done on it. We needed a new subfloor. While we were
waiting to put in the carpet until a computer nook was added to the
front of the house, my grandma gave me a rug. It was a big ol'
braided rug that used to be in front of her fireplace. She was
getting a new one, and this one had a few burn spots from coals
leaping out of the fire. One night I sat down on the couch, and my
foot snagged on something sharp. I told HH to get down on the
floor and see if there was a staple or paperclip caught in the rug.
HH crawled on his hands and knees, and said, "Here it is!"He
grabbed it and stood up, holding it in the air. Like a nerd winning
a "Technical Lighting" award clutching his Oscar. It was a toenail.
A big, ragged, MAN's toenail! My 5'2" humpbacked little ol'
grandma could never have cultivated a toenail of such proportions!
My uncle from Alaska had been staying with her for a few weeks
during the Christmas tree season, since they operated a tree farm.
It had to be HIS toenail. Ewww! It gagged me.

Now we have that rug in the basement, so the kids don't have to
sit on the tile floor. HH hung it over the clothesline at the old house,
and beat it within an inch of its life. I wanted to throw it away. HH
said it was worth too much to throw away. Scavenger! Every time
I speak of it, I say "The Toenail Rug."

Now you REALLY want to visit the Hillbilly Mansion, don't you?
Sorry, Mabel. Now I can never invite you.
You know my secrets!