Cockeyed Cooz

[That damnable contraption I so presciently named the Cooz has bitten me in the butt. John and I had a pleasant dinner with Grandma Friday night up here in Sonoma, and spent yesterday driving around the Valley a bit, and relaxing at my parents' house. Around 4:00, I decided to heat up the water in the hot tub so we could use it later. When the time came to hop in, I unlocked the cover, and flipped it back. It was dark outside, so I couldn't see exactly how it was supposed to bend back, but figured, "Hey, it's a hinged piece of fiberglass with a leatherette cover. How many moving parts can there be to break?"]

[We enjoyed the bubbles and hot water, got out, and when I tried to replace the cover and lock it, per instructions, it wouldn't fall back into place. Not only is there a strap in the back which apparently broke when I tried to open it, but there's some complicated metal assembly which attaches the cover to the back of the tub, and for the life of me, I can't figure out how to make it work so that the cover lands straight. Last night, in the rain, I said "Fuckit" and decided to see if I could figure it out in the light of day.]

[Well, here we are in the l.o.d., and I still can't see how why the cover won't land squarely on the tub. Not only can't I lock it, but the water itself isn't completely covered, so any of the danged critters (raccoons, deer, wild turkeys, small neighbor children) that are a part of the landscape up here could fall in and drown. And that damn leather strap is still broken. My parents got this installed just a couple of months ago, and here I am, on the my first solo tour at their house, and I broke it.]

[Violet, who is coming up from Marin in a few hours for breakast and a soak in the Cooz, would call this a First World Problem. My parents have subscribed to Time magazine as long as I can remember, and the cover story on the edition on their coffee table is about AIDS in Africa. That's a Third World Catastrophe. I feel like Gloria in "Auntie Mame": And I stepped on the ping pong ball!" Yes, this bourgeois problem is Just Ghastly. My parents will not be pleased.]

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