My Filter Groaned Like A Forgotten Memory

Ever felt like your pool was silently judging you? This poetic, emotional dive into filter neglect and pH drama turns guilt into a surprisingly funny lesson.

Entry One: A Murky Beginning

I woke up to silence. Not peace. Not calm. Just the still, eerie quiet of a pool that had seen too much.

She used to sparkle in the morning light. But today, her waters were tired. Heavy. Unforgiving.

I had shocked her, or at least I thought I had. The bag said “Super Shock.” The instructions seemed easy. Toss. Stir. Walk away with smug satisfaction.

But she didn’t respond.

Instead, the water clouded like my judgment. It mocked me.

And in the distance, my filter groaned. Softly at first. Then louder. Like a forgotten memory rising to the surface.

Entry Two: pH and Other Regrets

I checked the test strip like a guilty lover reading old texts.

High pH. Too high. Alkalinity a mess. Chlorine clinging on for dear life.

Of course. Of course.

Why had I ignored her signs? The slight green tinge. The way she clung to the walls. The bubbles that felt more like sarcasm than chemistry.

She was trying to tell me something.

My filter groaned again. It wasn’t just clogged. It was hurt.

Entry Three: The Confession

I sat by her edge, toes dipping into my shame.

“I used you too hard,” I whispered. “I expected miracles. I bought the cheapest shock and ran the pump for barely a breath.”

A leaf floated by. Judgmental.

I hadn’t backwashed in weeks. I had let the cartridge suffer. The pressure gauge had been screaming but I turned away. Said I was busy. Said I knew better.

The lies we tell our pools.

Entry Four: Redemption

I cleaned the filter like it was a sacred act.

I read labels. Real ones. I balanced pH with trembling hands.

I shocked with purpose. Measured. Timed. I brushed her walls gently, like saying sorry without words.

The groaning stopped.

She didn’t sparkle, not yet. But she swirled with hope.

Entry Five: Case Closed

Sometimes, a pool doesn’t need more shock. It needs more honesty.

It needs you to listen to the groans, the cloudy sighs, the silent guilt hanging over the surface.

Water is forgiving. But filters remember.

So backwash your regrets. Balance your guilt.

And for the love of chlorine, stop ignoring the pressure gauge.

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