The water looked at me, and I looked back. Both of us unsteady, both of us waiting for the other to admit fault. The chlorine had vanished overnight, leaving nothing but guilt floating between the tiles. I thought I had this under control, but the truth was, I never did.
Chapter One: When The Water Mocked Me
The sun was out, mocking me with its relentless cheer. I sprinkled shock into the pool like salt into a wound, hoping it would heal whatever was broken beneath the surface.
The test strip betrayed me. It whispered numbers I didn’t want to see, pink fading into nothing. The chlorine was gone. It left quietly, as though it had grown tired of my neglect.
The water shimmered like a mirror but it was lying. Underneath that surface was the chaos I caused. My hands shook as I dipped the brush into the depths, scraping at invisible sins, hoping redemption could be bought with elbow grease.
Chapter Two: The Filter Guilt
I sat beside the pump like a confessor before a priest. My filter was clogged. Again. Full of my mistakes and everyone else’s; hair, leaves, forgotten dreams.
I opened it and stared inside. It smelled like regret.
Every backwash was another apology, another attempt at forgiveness. But the water didn’t care. It swirled and churned, stubborn and cold.
I wanted to scream at it, to tell it that I cared, that I was trying, that my intentions were pure. But the water is honest, and it reflected nothing back but my own shortcomings.
Chapter Three: Chemistry Lessons
I sat cross-legged with bottles of pH decreaser and alkalinity increaser like a fortune teller with her cards.
The numbers never added up. No matter how much I added or stirred, something was always off. The pH was a wild horse and I was just the rider clinging on.
Each drop of reagent felt like penance.
“Why can’t you just behave?” I whispered at the water.
It shimmered but didn’t answer.
The chlorine was still hiding, mocking me from wherever it had gone, leaving behind a faint smell of defeat.
Chapter Four: A Love Letter To Chlorine
Dear Chlorine,
I know I’ve taken you for granted. I thought you would stay no matter how I treated you, but you left me when I needed you most.
I poured too much shock at the wrong time. I left the pump off when I should have kept it running. I let my guests jump in without rinsing, their sunscreen and sweat and laughter turning you bitter.
I forgot to test you after the rain. I assumed you’d wait for me. But you didn’t.
And now I stand here, alone, with my hands full of tablets and my heart full of regret.
Please come back.
Chapter Five: Redemption
It started with a deep breath. I gathered my courage and my testing kit.
I scrubbed every wall, even the corners I liked to ignore. I emptied the skimmer basket, which was shamefully full of leaves and guilt.
I backwashed the filter twice, until the water ran as clean as my conscience was trying to be.
I shocked properly this time, measuring like a scientist instead of a desperate poet.
And slowly, like forgiveness, the chlorine returned. A faint whiff at first, then stronger. The numbers climbed back where they should be. The water stopped lying.
Chapter Six: Clarity
The morning after was quiet. I stood at the edge of the pool, toes curled over the coping, and stared at my reflection.
The water no longer mocked me. It glistened like forgiveness.
In its depths, I saw all my flaws and also my persistence.
Pool care is not control. It’s a relationship. You give, it takes. You listen, it answers. You ignore, it rebels.
It’s chaotic and beautiful, like every love worth having.
Lessons Scribbled In The Margins
If you find yourself where I was, here are a few notes from this messy love story:
- Never assume chlorine will stick around if you don’t nurture it.
- Test the water before and after shocking.
- Run your pump during and after shocking so the chemicals can do their job.
- Clean your filter and baskets before blaming the water.
- Respect the balance of pH and alkalinity. Don’t dump chemicals blindly.
- Remember: rain, sun, and swimmers all demand more attention from you.
Case Closed
The pool and I made peace, at least for today.
The chlorine is back, the water breathes easy, and my guilt has settled into something almost like wisdom.
It’s not about control. It never was. It’s about showing up when it matters, paying attention when it counts, and admitting when you’re wrong.
So, here’s to the pool; my mirror, my confessor, my teacher.
I lost chlorine, and I lost control. But I found something else in the chaos. A strange kind of clarity.
Case closed.
