It’s summertime in the Pacific Northwest, and the three Faber girls have convinced Dad that it’s time to get rid of the rusty old cow trough I call a swimming pool. Not many people can legitimately call their swimming pool a tax write-off. But if the cows get out and take a few sips from the water trough/swimming pool in the front yard, I think it’s plausible that we would pass an IRS audit.
This is also the reason why local farmers call their fishing boats “flood recovery vessels,” and occasionally, an RV has to be used to pull out an irrigation gun.
The youngest and most vocal of the Faber children also pointed out that in order for summer to be a success, we also needed to make a trampoline a part of our home address. Not wanting to waste an opportunity to engage in violating several child labor laws, I enacted several chores around the house that needed to be completed in order to acquire such extravagances. After 45 minutes of bartering, encouraging, cajoling and threatening, the female Faber workforce agreed to such a trade.
It only took eight hours and three fistfights for them to wash and clean two vehicles, a tractor and their rooms. As soon as the last bit of trash was carried away, they immediately asked what my schedule was looking like to acquire their payment.
Not being one to spend frivolously, I searched Facebook Marketplace to find a cheaper alternative. I don’t have much experience with Facebook Marketplace outside of the one time my wife asked me to sell a $15 toaster and I waited two hours for a homeless guy to show up and offer me $8. I found both a pool and a trampoline about an hour away for the bargain price of $250 and $100, respectively.
We coordinated with said people, and I loaded up three kids and hit the road. On the way down, we ended up stuck in a traffic jam in the pouring rain and the kids were verging on the edge of a Russia-Ukraine-style meltdown. It was in this moment that I decided to look at prices on said items at the local Walmart. Shockingly, each of these items were only $100 apiece more, and the thought of spending a couple of hours in the rain taking down a rusty trampoline and 10-year-old swimming pool while playing the part of a UN peacekeeper seemed like a daunting task. I messaged the owners and informed them we were going through an international crisis and apologized, saying I wouldn’t be able to make their yard ornaments disappear.
We pulled into the Walmart parking lot, and dodging a torrential downpour and a pending tariff war on cheap Chinese goods, we made our way into the store and proceeded to find our items. The pool and trampoline combo proved to be too large to fit into the customary shopping cart, so we were introduced to a pimply-faced adolescent named Ethan who would assist us with a rolling cart that had three wheels and one that wouldn’t turn.
The Walmart theft prevention people were quick to ask for a receipt, and I informed them we were engaging in a complex theft that involved Ethan to accomplish our plot.
As we dodged rain again on our way to the Suburban, there was a Geo Metro that was brand-new sometime in the '80s and parked right next to us. I informed young Ethan that I brought enough straps to firmly tie the pool and trampoline on the roof of our Geo Metro. This led to several awkward minutes as Ethan contemplated his career choices in dealing with the general public and probably made him reconsider his father’s advice that working with computers would be a better option.
After several eye rolls from the kids, I informed Ethan that the Suburban might be the better choice.
Needless to say, the finest pre-tariff Chinese goods are firmly placed in their box in the yard, waiting for the right level of inspiration. After a day’s adventure, it’s looking like the Faber kids might have a summer, and this weekend is looking sunny enough to engage in a work party with my underage worker bees.
