When I was young we had a pool. In the late autumn, after all the leaves had changed from glorious paint strokes to interactive carpet fibers, we had to winterize the pool. The pool had to be drained below the filter. The lines had to be flushed out. The surface of the pool was skimmed and the bottom of the pool was vacuumed. Finally, we put special chemicals in the water to protect from algae and covered the pool with enormous, unruly plastic blanket. It was long, arduous work that took several days, which is like an eternity of freedom lost for a 10-year-old.
I remember that my dad had a checklist, and we had to do every single item on the list. Most of it involved running around to fetch him tools or pulling the hose over. Unfolding the pool cover always involved a lot of yelling and flipping and swearing. The whole time, a sense of urgency and the necessity of accuracy was hanging in the air like an oppressive odor. If we did something wrong, the pool would break. And if our error didn't break the pool, it would always surprise us with some job in the spring that was long and horrible and even worse than the task of winterizing.
Like the one year that we didn't clean up all the BBs from the bottom of the pool before putting the cover on. When we pulled the cover off in the spring, the bottom was covered in little rust spots. We had to dive down for 10 seconds at a time (in the cold spring water) with toothbrushes and slowly scrape the rust off the liner. It was horrible.
In a couple days, I will do something really crazy and radical. I'm going to extract myself from everything that is familiar, and will plant myself in a world where even the rules are foreign to me.
And this is actually very hard to do.
The world has gotten used to having me as a link in a chain, and there will be times in the coming year where that chain will pull, expecting me to be there. So I have had to start anticipating all the times that the chain will pull, in order to let the links around me know to link up in my absence.
I need to unsubscribe from all the different sites that send me email. I have to let people know. I have to figure out my insurance and loans. I have to find out ways to contact people ahead of time. I have to turn off my cell phone. And I have to put away my books, fold up my clothes, and pack a very small bag to sustain me for the year. The process has involved a lot of running around and mostly a lot of yelling about things not being set up properly.
And if I do these things incorrectly there will be consequences. It could harm my experience next year by drawing me out of it. Or if I make it through without breaking, there could be things that need attention when I return that could have been avoided if I had just finished the job now.
It occurred to me last week that, in a very real way, I am attempting to winterize my life.
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