As I write this, it is a beautiful, sunny, crisp fall day in London, Ontario. However, yesterday, the day of the final move of the behemoth hot tub, was different. I awoke to the hurricane-like sounds of the wind rushing past my window and the unmistakable sound of sleet hitting the glass. Awe…Great day for a move!

So myself, the other three village idiots, two wives, a daughter and a junior village idiot (village idiot in training, if you will) gather at about 11:00AM to do battle with the beast. You only get to be a “Village Idiot” if you actually can be sucked into helping do battle with the beast. The “Team” gathered for warmth in the kitchen and sipped on Timmie’s coffee as we discussed strategy. Suitably armoured up – gloves, toques, hoody, jacket and thermal underwear we head out onto the field of battle, the driveway, where the sleeping behemoth awaits.

Now, if you recall…all that was needed was to lift the 1,687,462.51,687,462.5 tub on edge, slide it over a six-inch precipice, move it thirty feet down the sidewalk while avoiding the 45-degree drop off into the neighbor’s yard, turn it 90-degrees and drag it up four stairs and across 20 feet of patio, drop it over a foot high ledge into its final resting place; but now we get to do all that in a 45 mile an hour wind with driving sleet. What could go wrong?

Well, surprisingly…very little. One of the village idiots brought two sets of rollers, the kind you find at a grocery store that allows the teller to send your fragile eggs hurtling into the stop at the end with great speed. We were able to lay them end-to-end and roll the beast along. This worked so damn well we are thinking of kicking him out of the Village Idiots. Within 30 minutes, we were at the steps, another thirty minutes, we were at the top of the steps. Now, it is a simple run across the patio and into the pit. Done!

Not quite. When the beast arrived on the field of battle, I noticed that a bunch of the foam insulation fell out, in sort of pellet-like form. Odd, I thought. Then as we were pushing and shoving the beast to the backyard, it became apparent that the open-cell spay foam insulation had picked up a lot of water. What is open-cell foam? Well, to put it in common terms, think…sponge. Every board in the base of the beast was so saturated, waterlogged and rotten that some literally turned to mush in our hands as we pushed. So it was decided that the best plan was to replace the entire base of the beast as it lay upside-down on the patio. To do this, we had to remove all of the protective plastic base. This led to discovery number two. The reason for the pellet-like, chunks of foam. An animal had been living in the belly of the beast and had made tunnels throughout the foam. Kinda cool actually. Like a giant fort, we used to make out of the chairs and couches in the living room.

It is now about 1:00 and time to run off to Home Depot for more weapons of mass construction. Wood, miter saw, deck screws and drill in hand we are ready to, once again, do battle. To make the matter of rebuilding the frame even worse, some of the wood was so rotten you could not get a decent measurement, but we did our best and four hours later a damn good representation of the original base was ready to drop in place. Remarkably it fit…Perfectly! Wow…how did that happen?

Some people aren’t just born village idiots they have to be coaxed and cajoled to it. Such was the case with my son. In order to get him to come out on such a fine day and risk his life, I had to promise beer, 12-year-old Canadian whiskey and BBQ ribs. Well, it was dinner time and a promise is a promise so I departed for dinner.

Upon my return, we had new closed-cell foam for the bottom, as well as pest-resistant spray foam to fill cracks. It was a thing of beauty. All we needed to do was flip it over, fill it up and hook it up. So we stood the behemoth back up on end. After the major surgery, she was not happy and was eyeing the double glass doors into the living room suspiciously. But the village idiots prevailed, and she was wrestled into her final resting place and filled. Now all we needed to do was finish the wiring, turn it on and in about 24 hrs. enjoy a nice hot soak.

About 8:00 the others decided it was time for a dinner break and pizza was ordered. 30 minutes later it’s time for the final electrical test. Yes there is power to the tub; hit the “Jets” button and…NOTHING. Check the wiring again, tighten a few connections and…NOTHING. Follow the wiring diagram, and say “Oh…that is where that wire goes.” Turn it back on and, lo and behold, the circulating pump comes on. Great! But I think more water is supposed to be moved than just what we are currently seeing. So…flip breakers, tighten wires, swear, bang on things and, something finally goes kikikikikikikikikikik…kikikikik…kiki…kikikikikikik. Hmmmm. Follow the wiring diagram. It is the heater solenoid. Flip the breaker several more times, swear some more, bang a few more things and presto…we see the main pump try to start.

Try to start is the key to that phrase, followed shortly by “What is that burning smell?” Bang, swear, tighten, loosen, flip, kikiki, swear, tighten, loosen, “What IS that burning smell?” kick, swear, kikikikikikik, “No really, what is that burning smell?” Seems that the main pump on the beast is FUBARed. The pump tries to spin but can’t. The pump is hot enough to fry eggs on.

It is now 10:30 PM, 11 and a half hours after the battle began. The beast has been wrestled into place and has still somehow won. As I leave to go home for a much-needed glass of wine and a dip in my hot tub I glance back at the beast curled up contentedly in the corner and swear she smiled. TO BE CONTINUED? I Don’t know.