Safe Drinking Water

I almost peed my pants this morning when the Sparkletts water guy knocked on my sliding glass door at work and waved violently to me. When I cautiously grinned and waved back, he made the international sign for "Open the door (so I can come in and rape you)". Naturally I got up to let him in, but even though he's about a foot smaller than me I'm still always afraid of the freakish happiness and enthusiasim with which he delievers water, so I said loudly, to no one in particular, "The water guy is here. I'm just gonna let him in! Ok? So if I go missing it's because I was trying to do good and hydrate you all! Ok, unlocking the door now. . ."

The receptionist sat at her desk ordering the Sparkletts guy to move the bottles from one end of the office to the other, in what I hoped was an attempt to tire him out so that he wouldn't have much energy to attack. Turns out she couldn't remember where the water cooler was. Which is always fun. You know, when the woman who is supposed to be running the office can't remember where we put water.

Miss Havisham distracted me with tax talk for a while, until I got tapped on the shoulder and screamed "DON'T CUT ME!", probably a little too loud for office talk. "Oh sorry, hahaha, didn't mean to scare you there," he said, "I just wanted to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving." "Oh. Of course you did." He proceeded to talk my ear off about football on Thanksgiving and did I watch football, and when I said yes as a matter of fact I watched Ohio beat Michigan this weekend, he went off about how glad he was Ohio won. We bonded a little bit then because I love Ohio, and here's why:

Those two on the left . . . Ohio, everybody!

I still wanted him out of my personal space and not sitting on my desk anymore, shifting papers like he was Julia Roberts saying he's never been on a fax before.

Not cool Mr. Water Guy. Not cool at all.