Time to complain. When is it not time to complain?
Last Sunday after some fun at Maxwell Street market (which, incidentally is no longer on Maxwell Street), we headed over to Pulaski pool to revel in -50 degree water and maybe lap up some chlorinated water like a puppy dog.
In case you are wondering, below is a list of things not allowed at the pool:
– flotation devices of any sort
– rational rules (will elaborate in a bit)
– fun (see above items)
As you can probably guess, Ellis didn’t really enjoy being immersed in frigid water. As he screamed in anger while Mr. Swirley tried to set him down to splash about, I looked longingly at all of the kids running around and yelling with delight as their brothers/sisters/friends shot them in the face with a water cannon. Maybe not yelling with delight, but at least they wanted to be in the water. Because that is what you do when you go to a pool. But not young EK. So there we sat, on the hot pavement while he licked cement and splashed around just enough to make me feel like we were sort of having fun.
|Serious cement sitting. See that massive green and blue thing in the background (i.e., a float). It’s not allowed.|
|“Mom, this is as far as I will go before I decide to make your life miserable.”|
|Angry. Very very angry.|
Don’t get me wrong. We are going back. I don’t care if he doesn’t enjoy it. I have already learned to pretty much ignore Ellis’ cries of protest.
This is what gets me. Every two hours, Pulaski pool life guards kick everyone out of the pool. Not like, “Hey, let’s do a dead body check and take a break. Everyone sit on the cement because you aren’t allowed to bring in chairs (which is just crazytalk, if you ask me) while we take a break.” No, no. It’s “You have to pack up all of your junk and LEAVE THE POOL AREA while we lock the gates and you mill about in the park. We will be over here laughing and pointing at you from our chairs while we flirt, I mean, take a break.”
I am sure that I was the first person to tell the lifeguards it’s an asinine policy and they should stagger their breaks. They seemed fairly indifferent which went over like a ton of bricks. I took this “break” as a cue for the Swirleys to head home and we marched out. We didn’t bring a towel for our baby, but I still felt superior to the guards who I am sure flipped me off as I shook my fists and yelled at Mr. Swirley. Once we arrived home, I printed out the pool schedule and waited until Monday to call the Chicago Park District. The next morning I was on the horn bright and early, not sure what I was going to say. Chicago Park robot lady told me to press some numbers and I left a message. I called again today, left some messages with other robot ladies and got the number for the Park Supervisor. I left a message with him and sent an email. I doubt it will change anything, but at least I feel better.
Today we awoke to another Honda Fit with two missing wheels. Sometimes I hate my neighborhood.
On a more upbeat note, I picked up a craigslist purchase and wasn’t murdered. Additionally, former Gov. Rod Blago was found guilty on a majority of the charges filed against him so he and former IL Gov. Paul Ryan can be bunk mates.
This morning I thought I had a caffeine headache so I drank two cups of coffee and a coke. Turns out I was just hungry and now my eyeballs feel like they are going to fly out and punch you in the face.
Last week I almost got into an argument with a policeman while I was parked in front of a fire hydrant. Guess who was parked in front of that same hydrant yesterday. It rhymes with a nozing schmoficer.
We saw Cage the Elephant perform a Lolla a few years ago and thought they sucked. Now, every time I hear on of their songs on the radio I think to myself, “Damn, that is a catchy tune.”
I wish I spoke more than ten words of Czech.