I have a dirty little secret. Okay, I have way more than one. But the one that is up for discussion tonight is my water cup.
I love water. It does a body good. Milk stole that slogan. And the only reason milk got that "Got Milk?" cash cow of an ad campaign is because water does not leave an unsightly ring around your mouth. Really. Who wants to be all marked up like a shirt collar, or a toilet bowl? Not me. I don't partake of the milk. Except for a dram of chocolate milk on occasion. For medicinal purposes, of course.
My giant translucent water cup came from the hospital. It may surprise you to know that it was a regular hospital. Not a mental hospital. My cup has a gray lid (grey if you're British, Canadian, or Australian), and blue writing. BJC Health Care. And measurements down the side in ounces and milliliters. Along with a big ol' honkin' list of hospitals. I got mine at Barnes-Jewish when I had my thyroid out. A fair exchange, some might say. Give us your thyroid, we'll give you a water cup.
Shh...I actually have TWO of these water cups. No, I don't travel the midwest, unnecessarily having organs removed in order to procure cups. I took my mom for a procedure a couple years ago, and they gave us BOTH a cup. That's why insurance costs are so high, I assume.
You might think that with two cups, I would use one, put it in the dishwasher, and use the other one the next day. Repeat. And so on. But you'd be wrong! Silly! Mrs. Hillbilly Mom does not have a dishwasher. And she sure ain't risking dishpan hands just to have a clean cup every day. So I use my cup for a week at a time. It's only water! Water doesn't go sour like milk. Try spilling milk on your shirt some day. You might as well cry over it. Because that stuff will curdle and stink. But not water. And besides, I have a straw in my cup.
But here's where it gets interesting. At night, on the way to bed, I stop by Frig and load up on ice. No. I don't just do it because it makes such a loud noise and I want to irritate Farmer H. That's just a bonus. And in the morning, as I fill The Pony's metal water bottle (which I wash every night--what do you think we are, Barbarians?), I dump any extra ice into my cup. Then I top it off with some more water, and I'm off to work. When I get home, I add more ice and water.
So you see, my water is kind of like sourdough starter. At least for a week. Because there's always a little bit of the original water in there. Stop gagging. It's only water. It's not like that east coast hamburger restaurant that deep-fries hamburgers in grease that has been there since the Revolutionary War. Okay. That's Dyer's in Tennessee, and it's oil not grease, and it's only 100 years old. But that still makes my water more appetizing, huh?
Because I feel like we're friends, I'm going to share a little tip with you on the care and cleaning of water cups. If you happen to live in an area like Hillmomba, with oodles of minerals in your well water, there is a simple remedy for the scaling you get at the bottom of your week-old cup. Pour an inch of vinegar in the bottom, and swirl it. Let it sit about 5-10 minutes. Pour out the vinegar. Wash as usual. That means in a dishwasher if you have one. But if you do, then you probably wash your cup every day, and don't get scaly mineral build-up, and don't need this advice. Voila! Your water cup is as pristine as when you brought it home from the hospital.
Ready to face another week!
All the stuff swirling around in my water cup every week makes me stronger. Only wusses need to wash them on a weekly basis.
ReplyDeleteSioux,
ReplyDeleteYes. It's like Wonder Bread. Building strong bodies 12 ways. AND, not washing your cup saves water. Because it's not like the earth can recycle that stuff.
Vinegar is one of the wonders of the world. I got my cup for a gallbladder. Like you, I don't have a dishwasher and I don't wash my cup everyday, either. The famous Bubba Mug with copious amounts of unhealthy diet Coke is another story, though.
ReplyDeleteKathy,
ReplyDeleteThe Pony has a water cup that he refuses to put by the sink for washing. I think he goes about a month before I demand to sandblast the gunk out of it. I swear, sometimes I think I hear him crunching his water.