Wednesday at work was a particularly long, catastrophically boring day. It was gorgeous outside, and other than a colonoscopy, working was the very last thing Caitlin and I felt like doing. To pass the time, I proposed an impromptu task of finishing the contents of the upstairs water cooler by the end of the day. When filled to capacity, the water cooler holds a staggering five gallons of water, but by the time we began, the cooler probably held only about four gallons of water. However, the upstairs cooler receives substantially less traffic than its counterpart in the kitchen, meaning that we ultimately drank almost the full four gallons ourselves.
Notable Moment: By about the third gallon, we were practically drowning internally, and were unable to laugh, move, or breathe without fear of accidentally wetting ourselves. In a desperate attempt to polish off the remaining water, Caitlin and I stationed ourselves in the room with the cooler to see how much we could stomach at once. Our coworker walked in a few moments later and, seeing us both gulping water furiously, nonchalantly asked, “Are you guys thirsty?”
There was also the part where, mid-chug, Caitlin burst into laughter for no reason and consequently sprayed her face, my legs, and my feet in a shower of used water.
Conclusion: I don’t really like water, and despite advice to the contrary, I usually have an average of eight ounces of water a week. Consuming two gallons in less than five hours was literally painful. I almost vomited twice, Caitlin suffered from a severe headache, and we made eleven trips to the bathroom in a period of seven hours. I’ll stick with my original assessment: water sucks.