I woke up this morning, reached for the glass of water sitting next to the bed, took a drink of water, and immediately spit the water out. Biker Boy sighed heavily and rolled out of bed, saying, "hand over the glass, princess."
Just like the little girl in that awful movie Signs, I am particular about the water I drink. It should be cold. How American is that? It should not be in Nalgene bottles, taste like metal, or have been sitting out in open air for more than a couple of hours. Typically, water that has been sitting out for a long time does take like metal, so that situation has TWO strikes against it. Biker Boy knows this, thinks it's a "charming eccentricity," and gets me new water whenever I spit it out. Even if that means getting out of bed early for the sole purpose of getting me fresh water.
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