Do Not.
I could end this essay right there and save you the labor of reading on but that wouldn’t be sporting, so let me elaborate.
Have you heard of the term “humble bragging?” Well this isn’t that. Humble bragging is like, “Ugghh, I’m trying to make these smoked salmon canapés for this fundraiser I’m throwing and this kitchen in my Nantucket place is just positively too small!” I learned about the idea of humble bragging from a college professor named Jonah Berger. Jonah Berger is younger than I am. And he has a higher prestige job than I have. And he’s a better writer. So I guess telling you that I learned something from him is, itself, a humble brag. As in “I’ve met some pretty cool people. So, yeah, I guess you could say I’m pretty cool too.” Come to think of it, just saying humble brag is sort of a humble brag. It’s a real Kafka trap.
This is unproductive, so let me get back to the issue at hand. Do not get a swimming pool.
Unless:
1. You really, really, really like swimming.
2. AND You are really good at chemistry. Because you now have a 25,000 gallon Petri dish in your backyard. And most of the things you mix into that giant beaker to make it suitable for human enjoyment are, in fact, fatal. I call it the Pool Paradox.
3. AND You are retired, without hobbies, and have no regard whatsoever for the value of your own time. Because, congratulations, you are now hired for a near-fulltime non-paying job.
4. OR You are wealthy and, after spending roughly the price of a very nice house in 1995 to build the thing, you feel that an extra $20,000 per year is of no consequence.
5. AND you’re even wealthier than that because that $20,000, which is a guaranteed cost, will balloon to $30,000-40,000 some seasons, without warning.
But kids like pools. And if you’ve read any previous installments, you know I don’t care about that. Don’t get a pool. Spend the dough on lavish vacations. I heard hotels have pools. But I wouldn’t know.
.