How I Accidentally Became a Pool Chemist And Then Got My Life Back

I never planned to become the guy who swirls test kits like a backyard scientist, but there I was—every Sunday morning for two months straight—kneeling beside my pool, goggles on, muttering things like “Why is the pH rising again?” while my wife watched from the kitchen window with the kind of amused concern usually reserved for people talking to their plants. All I wanted was clear, calm water. But instead, I found myself locked in an invisible battle with something called alkalinity —and it was winning.

We built the pool three summers ago, mostly for our kids, but also because I had this fantasy of morning laps and starry night swims. At first, it was everything we hoped. The water shimmered, friends came over constantly, and my youngest learned how to dog-paddle by fall.

But last spring, something changed. The water started looking... off. A bit cloudy, slightly gritty along the tiles. Then came the flaky white buildup on the walls. The test strips told me what I didn’t understand: total alkalinity was high. “No big deal,” I thought, “I’ll fix it.” Spoiler: I did not fix it. At least, not at first.

I started reading online pool forums. Joined a Reddit thread. Watched YouTube tutorials that made me feel like I needed a chemistry degree. I learned that high alkalinity keeps the pH from staying stable , which messes with chlorine, which lets algae grow, which causes the filter to struggle, which leads to buildup… and before you know it, your beautiful pool feels like a lukewarm swamp with attitude.

I tried the muriatic acid method—slow additions, pump on, wait 24 hours, retest. Some days it helped. Other days? I’d end up overshooting and driving the pH so low it burned our eyes. One weekend I spent six hours babysitting the process, pouring, testing, adjusting. Six hours. That was my Sunday. Gone.

And here’s the kicker: all that effort? It didn’t last. The water would go back to being unbalanced in just a week or two. That’s when I realized something was fundamentally wrong with how my pool was circulating and cleaning itself. The problem wasn’t just chemical—it was physical.

Enter Beatbot. My friend Mark, who is both a pool owner and a low-key gearhead, kept raving about his robot cleaner like it was a family pet. I was skeptical. I didn’t think a robot could help with water chemistry. But I was desperate. So I gave in and bought the  Beatbot AquaSense 2  .

I won’t lie—it looked cool out of the box. Sleek, quiet, almost elegant. I dropped it into the water like I was releasing a koi fish at a Japanese temple. It scanned, mapped, and started working immediately, gliding along the walls, floors, and even the waterline. That night, for the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel anxious about the pool.

Over the next few days, something shifted. I still added acid when the alkalinity crept up, but I didn’t need to do it as often. The pH held steady. The water looked happier. And I realized why: for the first time, the water was actually being evenly circulated and cleaned , edge to edge, nook to nook. The robot wasn’t just cleaning— it was restoring balance .

After a month, I noticed I was using less acid , doing fewer tests , and—most surprisingly— worrying less . My pool stopped being a stressor. My Saturday mornings returned to coffee and crossword puzzles instead of chemicals and backwash cycles. My wife stopped joking about hiring a pool boy because apparently, the Beatbotwas the pool boy.

Even my pool guy (yes, I still call him occasionally) told me, “Whatever you're doing... the water’s holding beautifully.” I smiled and nodded. What I was really doing was trusting a robot to do what I couldn’t—run a flawless, silent, daily routine I never had the patience for.

Here’s the funny part: I used to think a clear pool meant the chemicals were balanced. Now I know it’s the other way around. A clear pool means everything’s working together —the filtration, the chemistry, and yes, even that little bot silently working its route like a meditation monk with a motor.

I no longer obsess about alkalinity, but I still test it occasionally, out of curiosity. It's stable now. Predictable. Safe. My kids swim every day. I float around with a drink in hand, not thinking about ppm or TA or pH. And that, to me, is what it means to own a pool—not the maintenance, but the magic that happens when the maintenance fades into the background .

The best part? I didn’t need to become a chemist. I just had to be willing to let go of control—and let a quiet, tireless machine take over the part I dreaded. Honestly, I wish I had done it sooner.

Would I still be able to explain how to reduce alkalinity in a pool? Sure. Add acid, aerate, balance pH. But what I really learned is this: you can fight your pool, or you can partner with it . And once you choose the second option, everything gets a whole lot easier.

Sometimes the smartest thing you can do is step back… and let something else swim forward.

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