Raquetball Reformation

I can never look at a raquetball court the same way again. Or a wallyball court either. I just spent 3 1/2 hours scrubbing the walls of said places. In that time we cleaned one of each. We were the fast group. In the process, we had chemical irriation, blisters, and general frustration. You know those marks that raquetball balls make on the wall? Yeah? THEY DON'T COME OFF. Unless you scrub the same two square feet for fifteen minutes. Multiply that my how many sets of two-foot squares we could reach with our monstrous extendable poles and you have our time frame. Plus we had to scrape/scrub the windows with a separate solution, so as not to ruin the windows.

The wallyball court was easier, but even so it was horrid. By then most of our hands had been rubbed raw.

As if that were not enough, we then had to scrub the cement walls outside of the Rec. Center courts. Not that we accomplished anything. It would be a great cruel and unusual punishment. Sentenced to clean a wall that doesn't come clean, no matter your efforts. The court doors weren't much better, but there were some spots we could scrape off with gum scrapers.

But beyond the physical and mental toture they put us through, the music that was playing was BEYOND BEARABLE. They don't pay me enough to listen to that music period, let alone while I'm sacrificing life and limb for the sake of the raquetball courts. Not only that, but just down the hall from the hideous music, there was mildly tolerable music playing. That would have been fine, HAD I NOT BEEN SCRUBBING A DOOR IN THE MIDDLE OF THEM! So I had to endure two horrendous styles of music coming at me from both directions and mingling in a dischordant symphony in my mind.

The only up side was being able to see the pool when it was nearly drained. There's still water in the deep end, but other than that it's empty.