It hasn't been easy, you know. I drink water like it's...water. You know, the substance that covers most of the Earth and fills most of our bodies? I drink so much water that there were a few times under my aunt's gaze wherein she questioned whether I've ever been tested for diabetes. Well, I still haven't, but I'm thinking that with all of the darn blood tests and whatnot they've done, they would have noticed something peculiar.
So it comes to an issue of vessel. My needs are much reduced at work. I require only a straw. I do not like having to sip. It is undignified. And I slurp.
No, I'm a dedicated sucker, and will probably wind up old and gray with smoker's line even though I've never smoked a day in my life nor will I.
And, now: random pictures of home because I'm off topic anyway and have been accused of slacking in the picture department.
So, pretty much any straw-bearing bottle will do in the workplace, and the bigger the better or I'll just have to refill more often. But within reason: a coworker of mine as an 80-ouncer. That's a five pound sloshing trough to have to drag back from the bubbler! I have from from Choose Hope, Inc...for obvious reasons I should hope. I'm all about proceeds going to Cancer research.
What to use at home is a non-issue. I found a lovely specimen last spring, and even had a task force go back to the store to steal a rubber washer from another bottle there when, devastated, I managed to lose my own during the height of my illness last Summer. If you bought that water bottle without the washer, part of me is sorry, but most of me feels that you didn't know what you were missing anyhow and my conscience in clear.
But at the gym, oh boy. I struggle so. Nick has an assortment of those Nalgene bottles, which are great because you can pack like 40 ounces in those suckers if you really smash the water molecules together. This volume is, of course, perfect for those days that I feel like wasting 75 minutes on the treadmill. But I have to drink from them by placing my lips physically on the mouth of the bottle, and drinking. It's uncouth for one, and for the second...well, you try drinking like that, from a brimming 40-oz bottle, while jogging. I NEED STRAWS. I'm convinced I'd have died of thirst by now had they not existed. They say a sucker is born every minute, and I guess I was the one at 9:42p some twenty-five and a half years ago.
But that's not even the worst. The hard plastic clangs against the metal of the cup holder when I display any sort of bounce, vigor, or hitch in my get-along. I find it very distracting and thow darts at the loud thing with my eyes, willing it to shut the heck up. It never does. I look around, realize that everyone else working out can hear my tantrumming bottle, and lord only knows how long it will be before the powers that be throw us both out of the establishment. I turn off my treadmill and cry. This is a big deal. I need a water bottle that will stand up the the challenges I face.
Last week, I found it, THE bottle. It has the look, feel, and singing voice of the Nalgene bottles, BUT WITH A STRAW! I was so giddy that I giggled for a few minutes before stroking the purple one. So, with an adequate water supply and adequate system for delivery, one problem remained. The attention-seeking need to make more noise than the treadmill—I didn't think it was possible either but let me tell you...
Late Sunday night, I ordered sleeves for the bottles (Nick got one too), I'm thinking they will muffle the impact substantially. Until then, I came up with my own little solution, and shortly after my first test run, regretted having ordered anything as the home solution worked fabulously. A sock. Duh. Of course! I wrapped my bottle in the downy insulation I usually only bestow upon my toes, and only sound I could hear over the treadmill was the inner groan of my hips.
Thrilled, I headed home to Nick, who worked late that night and was unable to join me at the gym. Immediately he reached for my bottle, examining my setup. "Jealous, aren't you?" I asked, very full of myself as I recall. He made to answer, but I jumped ahead of him, "Do you want to use the other sock for yours?" He stroked the primary blue sock that I had purchased expecting a long hospital stay last month. It is gaudy and complete with white rubbery marks for traction. "I also have one in pink?" He seemed disincline to accept.