Looking out my Backdoor: A pig in a poke

We didn’t exactly buy it sight unseen. Well, I suppose I did. My half. Unseen.

Last winter, Jim, a neighbor here on the rancho, and I began hankering (that word generally precedes a pig in a poke) after a hot tub for pain therapy. We agreed that if we found what we wanted, we’d share the cost, share the use.

We made two dread trips into Guadalajara only to find them outrageously expensive. Searches on such sites as craigslist: Mexico, for a second-hand tub yielded no results.

Jim returned to Missouri in March. “I’ll look around here. If I find one and we agree, I’ll buy it and bring it down in my pickup.”

He searched in his area. Checked out a couple. I nixed one. Another we agreed was too expensive. Our criteria; almost free.

“There’s one in St. Louis. It’s old, like us. The owner wants $500. I’ll go check it out when I go up to see Mom.”

Later, “He’s dismantled it. I won’t be able to see if it works or not. He’s firm on the price. Are you willing to risk your $250? It’s old … “

“Like us. You said, already. I’ve spent $250.00 foolishly uncounted times, so I’m willing to risk.”

A week later my therapy tub rolled in atop Jim’s pickup bed. It’s old. The tub, not the truck.

A week after arrival, Jim had the electrical line routed from the box on opposite side of my house (of course) around to where the tub sits. Jim is meticulous. He spent hours staring at the innards. From my own experience, I know this to be one way to figure out how things go together.

Meanwhile, I had my hands full rearranging and creating new garden areas for the flowers which the hot tub displaced.

The heating element isn’t working. A post is corroded, completely gone. But we can get a replacement.

An O-ring is broken. We can’t find one in town. I shudder to think of an hour and a half drive to the Big City for a thin circle of rubber that costs pennies. Not that we know where to find one. But, we’ll do what we must. We cannot fill the tub and check the pump, circulating lines and other mechanical parts without that particular O-ring.

Me, I’m happily painting the skirt. I love Mexico for Mexico’s love of color. I’m transforming boring brown wood into a landscape of turquoise, ochre and aqua: water, earth and sky.

Today I’m optimistic that we (Jim) will get our therapy tub running soon. We alternate feeling discouraged, grinding our teeth over money spent, another $300, shared cost. We are in a country where, instead of saying, ‘It’s broken, throw it away, buy a new one’, people say, “It can be fixed,” We like that philosophy.

Friends like to chide us for wanting hot water soaks since May is the hottest month of our year with temperatures in the high 90s every day.

But I know from experience, years of nightly soaks, that hot water eases muscle pains, whether the weather is stifling or freezing.

Believe me, dripping sweat ain’t the same thing.

——

Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com. Email [email protected].