As I’ve described before, the hot tub was not supposed to become my weekly chemical experiment. My years of playing chemist with our pool in Texas were supposed to give me substantial credit on any outdoor full water immersion projects for a number of years. When the hot tub arrived, I encouraged my wife to use the chemicals as directed. The problem was that the chemicals were dropped off with the hot tub, while any meaningful support apparently took a different delivery truck. The hot tub slowly spiraled downward until we decided a random lagoon would probably be more attractive. Judy eventually transferred some of her many wife credits into one of my individual virtual bank accounts, and I became responsible for water quality. I may not have excelled, but things have been improving.

With hockey boys and family using the hot tub, the chemistry is no longer my biggest concern. The bigger problem has been opening and closing the lid and, more specifically, clipping and unclipping all the latches. Early on, my daughter failed to unhook one of the back corner clips, and it snapped right off. Disappointing, but not worth making a fuss over. I figured I would probably be responsible for breaking one eventually, too.

That day was Tuesday.

After we had gone through a few hockey boys who had no interest in clipping all of the available clips on the hot tub lid, our newest boy, with my knowledge and encouragement, was determined to do a complete job. That included clipping the last back clip, which had rarely been used during the previous year. The only time we really needed it was last winter, when the wind was blowing hard enough that we needed the back clip secured to keep the back of the lid from flipping over the front and turning our hot tub into a very expensive outdoor cooling device.

Tuesday, while I was cycling through the series of chemicals necessary to maintain a happy hot tub, I popped that last back clip. At first I thought, “Why is it so hard to flip the lid off?” Then came the pop, and I knew the clip had given up the good fight.

When my daughter popped a clip, I thought, “Oh, darn.” When I do it, it needs to be fixed immediately so I’m not reminded of my stupidity every time I look at the hot tub.

The problem was that the existing clip was on a strap sewn directly onto the cover. Replacing it the traditional way would mean cutting the strap that was sewn into the cover or figuring out some other solution. I was a big fan of the “some other solution” option. This led me to a video featuring a guy with an English accent replacing the same type of clip without cutting the strap. I don’t know why an English accent makes a repair seem more trustworthy, but I was willing to accept the evidence.

The replacement clip has a small opening in an otherwise solid piece that allows the existing strap to slide into place without cutting it. The video sent me to an eBay listing, but after some significant trepidation, I eventually found what appeared to be the same thing on Amazon.

This is the important part if you have the same problem: look for replacement male clips that have slots for attaching the strap without cutting it. (see image below) That allows you to remove the broken clip and install the replacement without cutting or sewing the existing strap. Even better, the male portion of the replacement clip fit into the existing female portion already attached to the cover.

That meant I didn’t have to replace the entire latch assembly. I just had to replace the broken male clip.

And it worked.

In fact, it worked so well that I decided to fix the two clips that were already broken. Then, apparently overcome by the thrill of my own success, I decided to cut one of the perfectly good clips and replace it, too.

I really can’t explain this.

I was so drunk with success that I broke another thing just so I could fix it again. At some point, I need to develop hobbies that don’t involve destroying things that were working perfectly well five minutes earlier.

Still, there was something satisfying about solving the problem myself. Usually, Judy is the one who finds the part, orders it with complete confidence, and eventually fixes the recliner or whatever other household problem I have probably helped create. I’m perfectly happy to watch her do this because she has a much better track record.

This time, though, I found the solution, ordered the part, and actually fixed the problem. I may not be ready to become the primary “Maybe Amazon has a kit to fix that” shopper in the family, but I’m willing to volunteer as the more enthusiastic second-stringer.

I take disappointment pretty hard, especially when the disappointment is something I created myself. But there’s something pretty satisfying about finding the right solution, making the repair, and watching something that was broken work again.

Even if you did have to break one more thing to celebrate.

This is the Amazon link to a set of 4 of the clips as shown on the left: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BM5DLT2B?ref=ppx_yo2ov_dt_b_fed_asin_title