BESTOV '09: moment of spontaneity

For about a week this summer it got stupid hot. The sun turned into an angry dictator holding poor people hostage inside their homes or anywhere else they could find shade. One Sunday, Leah and I dreamt of what it would be like to be rich and own a pool. A pool of wet, cool refreshment. An oasis for our sweaty bones to soak. I spoke of a magical contraption I've seen in Sears Roebuck catalogs called miniature, above-ground pools. I theorized that Target might sell them. And in a moment of unexpected spontaneity, Leah said, "Let's go." The rest, my friends, is coooooooool history. At the age of 30 I became a pool owner. Eat that, John Jacob Rockefeller.