firing the butler

I have been spending too much time watching English costume dramas -- or maybe it has been watching all of those Fawlty Towers episodes years ago.

Lately, I have started thinking about what it would be like to live in a house with additional staff. A driver. A cook. A house manager. But every time I wander down that path, I realize that Dora's cleaning regimen and Antonio's pool maintenance are all I really need.

When my house was built, whoever designed the pool thought through some of the difficulties of pool ownership. To avoid overflows, there is a drain that empties into a tinaco buried at the pool's verge.  There are several "v" cuts along the edge of the tinaco that allow water to flow into the house's drainage system if too much water makes its way to the tinaco. For instance, during heavy tropical rains. I never have to worry about the pool overflowing.

It also works in reverse. When the water level in the pool recedes due to evaporation or excessive fun, a float in the tinaca will turn on my well pump to provide more water to the pool. It is a nifty system.

Except for one thing. The float is similar to the float you might find in your toilet tank. Over time (about every eight months or so), the metal attachment corrodes so badly that its breaks, leaving the float doing its impression of Jack Dawson in Titanic.

Even though the tinaco is covered by a heavy concrete and metal lid, I know when the float has snapped because the pump thinks the tinaco needs re-filling, and will switch on and off in four-minute cycles. I always check each of the toilets and sinks in the house to be certain no water is running before I notify Antonio. I have been embarrassed in the past when the problem was a leaky tap and not a broken arm.

Fortunately, I did not need to call Antonio for a special trip. This was his morning to be here -- at 7:30. We discussed whether any taps were open (he knows me well) and he then lifted the lid. The float was bobbing away. Like those annoying kids in high school who always had their hands in the air with the right answer. But the float, with its raised arm had the wrong answer.

After a quick trip to the hardware store, an intricate surgery of removing the old and attaching the new, and a sophisticated adjustment, I had an operating system in just over one hour. Well, I had an operating systems thanks to Antonio and his Christmas-card-bringer son Enrique.

All for the total cost of 300 pesos (about $14 (US)) -- parts and labor. As always, Antonio did not want to be reimbursed for his time, only the 69 pesos for the float. That was not going to happen. Of course, it is a little dance we both play when he provides additional pool services.

I have written about the half-life of floats in my tinaco several times. The essays always elicit a list of suggestions on how the engineering might be improved. Some have been quite sophisticated.

I have considered them all. And I am sticking with the current setup.

Certainly pouring capital into an improved switching system might be a good investment, but I rather enjoy what I have. It allows me to hone my skills as a house manager, and I then get to watch Antonio apply his expert skills in repairing the lame system.

Sometimes, good enough is good enough.

At least, good enough for me.