Cleaning Concrete with Pool Chlorine: A Messy Idea, A Clean Finish

I didn’t exactly plan on cleaning my concrete with pool chlorine . It just kind of… happened one Saturday when I was supposed to be relaxing. You know how sometimes you go outside to grab a towel or water the plants, and suddenly you’re deep into a “project” that no one asked for? That’s what this was. One minute I was barefoot, admiring the way the light was hitting the water, and the next I was staring down at the grime baked into the patio thinking, Huh. I wonder what would happen if…

There was this one particularly gross patch right near the shallow end. Dark, murky-looking, probably mold. Every time I walked past it, I’d think I should clean that. And every time, I didn’t. But that day, for some reason, I had a half-full bottle of pool chlorine sitting on the shelf in the shed and just enough stubbornness to try something mildly unhinged.

Did I Google anything? No. Did I read a label? Also no. I poured a little chlorine straight into a bucket, added some water, grabbed the stiffest brush I could find (which, weirdly, was one my wife uses to clean shoes), and started scrubbing like I was punishing the concrete for being dirty.

At first, nothing happened. Then suddenly—boom. White. Like ghost-white. The concrete lightened in seconds, and I thought, Wait… this is working? Which, of course, made me keep going.

I was barefoot. That was dumb. About ten minutes in, I realized the soles of my feet were tingling in a way that didn’t feel… legal. Also, the brush I was using had synthetic bristles, which started to curl like ramen noodles. Not a good sign.

But the worst part? The runoff. I was scrubbing uphill (yes, that’s a thing with concrete), and the water ran straight into the pool. I watched this thin stream of chlorine and mystery grime trickle down the slope, cross the coping, and plop into the water like it was proud of itself. I actually said out loud: Oh no.

Now, I’m no stranger to pool issues. I’ve battled algae, had a broken filter, even watched a squirrel fall in once (don’t ask). But this was new. The water, which had been sparkling like a commercial, turned dull in just a few hours. Not green. Not swampy. Just… lifeless. Like it was confused.

I probably should’ve gotten out the test strips, but instead I took a deep breath, walked to the corner of the patio, and pulled out my Beatbot . That little machine has become kind of like a trusted sidekick over the past year. I’ve got the AquaSense 2 series—not that I care much about product names—but it’s the one that just gets it done without me needing to check in every five minutes.

I dropped it into the pool like I was letting go of a stress ball. And, like usual, it glided along the floor like it had something to prove. I left it alone. Went inside. Showered. Made a snack. Scrolled through videos of people pressure-washing sidewalks (because apparently I’m that person now).

By the time I came back out, the pool had cleared up significantly. The floor was spotless, the water was calm, and it didn’t smell like a science experiment anymore. Somehow, my impulsive concrete-chlorine cleaning session didn’t destroy everything. Mostly thanks to that little robot.

It’s weird how things work out. I didn’t plan to clean the concrete that day. I didn’t plan to let chemicals run into the pool. I certainly didn’t plan to spend my Saturday walking around with chlorine-burned feet.

But here we are. The patio looks bright. Clean. Almost like new. And I’ve started to kind of like the patchy effect in some spots—it’s got character. Like a reminder of how we sometimes learn stuff by accident.

The pool’s perfect again. The Beatbot’s back in the shed, quietly waiting for the next time I mess something up. And me? I’m back to lounging. With shoes on this time.

Don’t. Or do. I’m not a guidebook. But at least wear gloves. And shoes. And maybe have a Beatbot on standby just in case. Because in this house, the projects are spontaneous, but the cleanup is robotic.

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