I hopped into the spa pool the other day to find that it was full of little slimy floaty bits.
I opened up the filter compartment and pulled out the filters, and it was disgusting. (Ooh a clickbait idea for another day: “She opened up the filter compartment, and what she found was disgusting!” or even better “What she found will shock you!”) After such a build up, I should have taken a photo, but I was too horrified. Anyway, they were both covered in slime. Once again, google comes to my rescue because here’s a photo someone else has posted online. The slime coating on mine was even worse, if you can believe it.
Now, as with just about everything one ought to do in modern life, the care one should take of one’s spa pool is quite onerous, and I don’t keep up. The spa pool shop I used to go to went bust a year ago, and since the last time I had my water tested there, the assistant was positively glowing in his assessment of it, I wasn’t too bothered. There’s only one spa pool shop up here these days and they keep gentleman’s hours so I can never get there. But since I was up here on a Friday, I thought I’d take my chance, so I chucked one of the filters in a bucket and hot footed it around there. Well, I drove in my Tesla, keeping to the speed limit the entire time, but you get the idea.
The shop was quite hard to find, in a back lot somewhere in the mists of suburbia. The salesman was an overweight middle aged man, sitting in a chair, wheezing away quietly to himself. I explained what I was there for, he told me to bring the filter in from the car, took one look at the offending article, and started laying into me, shaking his head and grimacing. I really felt as if I was in danger of having the spa pool removed from my custody. “These filters are supposed to be cleaned every week! When was the last time you had your water tested?” I feebly tried to explain that it had been impossible since the previous shop had closed down, but I’d brought a specimen of water today, and I handed him the bottle. As he unscrewed the lid, I added that I had put some more chlorine in it just today. “After you got this sample?” “No! Just before.” “Oh well that’s useless then” as he screwed the lid back on. Apparently you need to give the chlorine time to settle before you take a sample. “You’ve got this wonderful piece of machinery, you need to start taking better care of it!” I was appropriately abashed, but I could also see the irony. This man has probably, or at least should have, been on the receiving end of a very similar telling off from a doctor much like myself. “You’re overweight, you need to eat better and exercise more, you’re putting yourself at risk of diabetes and heart problems.” Being told off like that wouldn’t feel good, and I shy away from doing it, telling myself that it’s the GPs job, not mine. But actually, I feel sufficiently chastened by my telling off that I plan to do better looking after my spa pool. Maybe I should stop hiding from difficult conversations?