Splish. Splash.

You know it isn't going to be good when by 9am you are already scrambling. By 10:30, things had straightened out. All seemed good.

I got home from the appointment at Emmi's school (where I explained to no less than five people that she cut her hair not once, but TWICE while they laughed hysterically. Yeah. Funny for you. You guys didn't schedule to have her picture made next week.), and I let the dogs out back to pee. The pool was full of leaves. Normally the little cleaner guy that swims around for a few hours each day takes care of that, but the collection bag was full. Damn. The pool is not my job. I clean the house (IE The maid cleans the house, and I take credit.), and Kenny does the pool and yard work. But Kenny was gone for the day, and the the little guy, who we refer to as "Little Guy", was set to kick on soon.

"Little Guy"

Damn. Damn. Damn. Last time I attempted to pull him out, I fell in the pool, scraping my leg along the rocks on the way down. I would be smarter this time. I wouldn't try to fish him out with my foot. I got the pole for the net, and hooked it under the tube for the pool cleaner. I pulled it out of the pool, and set it down. Ha! Victory. I didn't fall in this time.

Zip! I unhooked the collection bag, reached my hand inside and grab a big handful of leaves and then I hear the click.

The little pool cleaner comes to life, wheels spinning, little tail wagging, and stream of jet propulsion water squirting me right in the chest. Soaking me.

I stand up, sputtering, stumbling backward, before falling into Kenny's beloved sago palms. The handful of leaves I had pulled from the cleaner are now in my hair and all over my shirt.

Somehow this is all Kenny's fault.