Four of my neighbors now have this pool in their yards.
I can see two of these pools from my kitchen window; a third is two doors up the block, and the fourth is across the street from that house.
Everyone in Maine goes a little crazy during our two months -- OK, six weeks -- of summer, and this pool is currently on sale at Wal-Mart for about $80. The neighbors across the street set theirs up on Saturday, and it could not have been easier; they just had to make sure the surface was reasonably level, which took a little shoveling and moving around of dirt.
Something about this bothers me, though, and it's not just that no one's invited me over. If only one person in the neighborhood had a swimming pool, it would be a gathering place, an excuse to socialize and hang out on the long summer evenings, when we spend so much of the year bundled in layers and trapped in our homes. Instead, now every family has their own, and there's no visiting back-and-forth (although everyone did turn out on Saturday to watch the latest pool being filled/inflated). All these pools have become one more thing that keeps the neighbors separate.
I have a pass to the local state park, Peacock Beach, which is only three miles away; I've used it once this summer, and am resolved that I will use it again this week. It would be convenient to have my own swimming pool, but I can't help feeling that at some deep level, it wouldn't be good for me.