Living in a Bottled Water World

Real Men (And Women) Drink Tap Water

Bottled water makes me sick. Everywhere I go, no matter what function, gracious hosts and hostesses are providing bottled water along with the other beverages they serve. Now being a Southern good ol’ boy, I am not one to spurn hospitality, but I have had it. What ever happed to a cup, some ice, and water out of the spigot?

It seems all us good ol’ boys, and girls, are finding ourselves smack dab in the middle of a culture that forces us to drink water out of a bottle if we are to conform to the norm of society. Just try asking for water in a glass at a bottled water affair. I did that once and was treated like the outlaw in-law at the family get-together.

Maybe it’s the cost that gets me most. It’s absolutely ridiculous. Do you remember that old Merle Haggard song that began “when they find out how to burn water and the gasoline car is gone”? Well, don’t tell Merle, but we sure couldn’t afford to do that now.

A while back I went into a restaurant and noticed bottled water selling for a $1 a bottle. I asked the waitress how much a glass of water would cost. She replied, “You mean the complimentary water?” Guess that answered my question. So I had the option of paying a $1 for a bottle of water, or I could have an unlimited supply - with ice, mind you - for nothing. Boy, was that an easy choice.

This past summer, on a trip to the mountains, I decided to get some water to take on our picnic. I stopped to fill up the van at a gas station. It seems I could buy a gallon of water there for $1.20 or I had the option of buying a 20-ounce bottle of water from the same company for $1.29. The gas was a dollar a gallon.

Am I missing something somewhere? How in this world could gasoline - drilled from the oil fields of the Middle East, shipped to a refinery in this country in a big old freighter, piped to Paw Creek and trucked to that gas station - cost less than a jug of water? And how does less water cost more than more water? I will admit I wasn’t too good at math in school and I slept through more than a few logic classes in college. But even the dimmest bulb on the Christmas bush can figure out that this is just plain stupid.

I will grant you that if this was some special kind of water, I could understand the price. But read the labels. That high-dollar water at the gas station was “from a deep, protected well.” Go figure that, water from a deep well. I thought that’s what a well was, deep. And how do you “protect” a deep well anyway? With a shotgun?

It would appear that those silver-tongued devils who market bottled water have used some mighty curious notions to convince us to pay so much for so little. They stick labels on the jug that claim their water comes from a deep well, an Artesian well, an aquifer, or from a spring high up on some faraway mountain. Or how about charcoal-filtered water? Try pouring some water through a bag of charcoal sometime and see how that tastes. It all boils down to this: It doesn’t matter what type of hole it comes out of - water is still water.

Let me offer some good ol’ boy logic to lift us out of this river of ignorance. The next time you get a water craving flung on you, get a cup and go to the spigot. Be wild and put some ice in it if you want. You can’t do that with bottled water. I tried, but the tops are too small.

If you just have to drink your water from a bottle, I have that one figured out, too. Get a canteen, fill it full of water from a deep well, and you will have bottled water. For free.

For those of you who still want to pour good money down the drain, I am working on helping you, too. I am going to invent diet water. It has half the calories of regular water, is just as wet, and I will only charge you twice as much for it.

With the unseasonable weather we continue to enjoy in the Piedmont of North Carolina I have been afforded the joy of watching folks cutting their grass way up in late December.  While the poor fools in Buffalo are trying to dig out from under multiple feet of snow, some of us North Carolinians are still mowing the grass.

I say some of us, because you won’t catch me cutting grass on a good day in June, much less in December. My general rule is why cut it because will just grow back.

Guess I have never been able to figure all this yard manicuring, grass cutting, leaf blowing nonsense in the first place.  Millions of Americans are caught up in this never ending vortex of yard work that must continually be undertaken if our middle class suburban yards are going to pass the muster of our peers.  And for what common good, a green yard?

I have always enjoyed watching this process from the sidelines.  The late winter liming, the aerating, and reseeding are set in full swing by the warmth and rain of spring. The yard nut is then off and running and it’s every man for himself. Some mounting riding mowers that cost more than their cars, some on push mowers, and still others use my personal favorite, the high dollar self-propelled walk behind. 

The quest for the perfect yard can take on mammoth proportions for the yard nut. Elaborate timed sprinkler systems, separate wells for watering, fertilizers, and expensive hybrid grass seeds are but a few of the to