Entry One: Blue Mirror of Judgment
It was supposed to be easy.
Pour. Stir. Wait.
But the water stared back. Not with gratitude. With betrayal.
The return jets hissed. Mocked me. Like they knew I hadn’t cleaned the filter last weekend.
That I was late on brushing the walls.
That the chlorine I dumped wasn’t pre-dissolved.
Like the pool whispered, “You think you know me, but you never even read the label.”
Entry Two: Shocking the Unshockable
I thought I could fix it fast. A bag of shock and a dream.
I watched white clouds bloom like hope, Then vanish into nothing.
The green deepened overnight. So did my guilt.
pH was off. Way off.
I’d ignored the test strips. My laziness bubbled up like algae.
I felt like a fraud. A caretaker who never cared enough.
Entry Three: The Apology Skim
I skimmed the surface like it was an apology.
Each leaf, a memory of negligence. Each bug, a floating symbol of my shame.
I whispered, “I’m sorry I let you get cloudy.”
My pool said nothing. Just hissed from the return line, Like it needed time.
Entry Four: Filter Confession
I sat by the pump. Hand on the housing like a therapist with a client.
“I forgot to backwash you,” I admitted.
Silence. Then a gurgle. A deep, forgiving sigh.
I cleaned the basket. Brushed the tile. Balanced the pH. Measured. Re-measured.
For once, I followed every step. Like an apology in action.
Entry Five: Chemistry and Forgiveness
It took days. Multiple tests. Two deep cleans.
And finally, The water turned a shade I could trust.
The return jets softened. No longer hissing. Just humming.
Like they had seen my efforts. And accepted my peace offering.
Entry Six: Moral of the Deep End
Pool ownership isn’t about being perfect. It’s about showing up.
Even after you mess up. Even when your shocking fails.
Because sometimes, You have to be broken by a pH strip To understand balance.
And sometimes, The loudest judgment Comes from the jets you forgot to thank.
