In Hot Water

I was the one who always wanted the hot tub. I’m just that kind of person. I love hot water; I love taking baths. Swirling, bubbling, roiling water, with powerful jet massages was, to me, heaven on earth. What could possibly be better than a big bubbling box of hot water in the back yard? And from a therapeutic perspective, couldn’t we all use some physical relaxation to balance the stress in our busy lives?
The kids wanted one, too. They’re entering their teenage years and want to have friends over to socialize and “hang.” “All the experts say to encourage your children and their friends to spend time at your house,” I reminded my husband. A spa would give teenagers something fun to do in our back yard. Closely supervised, it would help keep the kids out of trouble.
My husband, however, is not a big fan of hot tubs. He’ll go in one at a friend’s house or a fancy hotel, but he’s never really wanted one. For years he was ambivalent, and unenthusiastic on the subject of hot tubs. But, with three of us so keen on the idea, he finally agreed that a hot tub could be a great addition to our home.
For months, everything we did was with the hot tub in mind. Our new patio was designed carefully with generous space for the tub. Our sprinkler system and spigots were placed so that the hot tub could be filled and drained effortlessly. We even chose dark wood-toned patio furniture, noting how it would match the “mahogany” exterior of the big tub. We researched spas and got thick envelopes and DVDs in the mail. We finally found a good deal and drove to New Hampshire to pick the color, size and style. We put down our deposit…and then the trouble began.
I guess we underestimated the cost of actually getting a hot tub installed. You need to hire an electrician and it’s not cheap. “Okay, but it’ll be worth it,” I said reassuringly. Then, the electrician informed us that, in addition to the hot tub installation, we would need to upgrade the electricity supply to out house. We simply didn’t have enough voltage to run a hot tub. Upgrading from 100 amps to 200 amps was a necessity. “Well,” my husband reasoned, “we should probably do that anyway.” Oh, then our old electric meter was not up to code and had to be ripped off the house, leaving a gaping hole, and moved to the front of the house. Cha-ching!
As the dollar amount grew, I started having second thoughts. With the economy in a spiral, and me in the midst of a career change, and my husband in a new job, was this really the time to buy a hot tub? “Careful what you wish for,” I reminded myself. But, at every turn, even when we thought we’d have to take the entire picket fence down to get the tub into the yard, my husband calmed me. “It’ll all work out,” he’d say.
Then, this past Friday, the glorious day arrived -- the hot tub was delivered and installed. We waited all day for the water to get to 100 degrees, and then we jumped in! All weekend we had kids and adults dropping by for a quick soak. It seemed like the grill was cooking non-stop and the music was blasting and our back yard had turned into a hot spot of neighborhood fun. That is, until Sunday, when the brown foam started to accumulate around the edges of the spa.
“Quick! Get the manual! Get the chemicals!” I cried. We may as well have donned white lab coats and protective eyewear. Suddenly, Ph balance, calcium, bromine and alkalinity were part of our ongoing vocabulary. I became obsessed with checking the water all day, and trying to fix it. Here’s a capful of this to get the foam down, and a teaspoon of that to get rid of the disgusting scum. And, before I knew it, the water turned GREEN! Bright, neon, nuclear, glow-in the dark GREEN! We had the hot tub for less than three full days, and it was green. If I were the type that cursed, I would have let the foul words rip. But, instead, I just got very quiet and depressed. My husband and I both searched the internet and came up with the same information. “It’s either too much metal in the water, or too much bromine.” Either we needed to add more chemicals or, God forbid, empty the water and start again.
Now I was feeling entirely guilty. I felt like I had tried to build Sodom and Gomorra in my back yard and I was being punished. Was it really too much to ask for? I had just wanted some pleasure, okay, maybe even some decadent pleasure, in my life. But maybe I wanted too much. The waste of water, all those chemicals, and the expense --this is not really who I am. I recycle. I bring reusable shopping bags to the grocery store. I only use Lime on my grass. I’m fiscally responsible. What had come over me?
I kept waiting for my husband to say it… “I told you so.” I kept thinking at any moment he would express his overwhelming frustration and disappointment, and finally place the blame on me which was, after all, where it belonged. And I kept waiting…but he never said it. As the dollar amount rose, as the water turned green, as my desire for a hot tub turned to disgust, he never lost his cool and turned to me to say, “I never even wanted a hot tub!” And, somehow, I don’t think he will. And, I have to wonder if he is a better person than I, because at this point I would love to blame this fiasco on anyone but myself.
So, as I sit here on Monday morning trying to figure out what to do about the green hot tub that has become my aquatic nemesis, at least I can take some solace and appreciate what’s really important. Mentally, I can soak in the warmth of my marriage, and massage my soul in the love, patience and kindness of my husband. Who needs a hot tub, anyway?