While I was pouring myself a glass of water just now, I realized that that the filter had overstayed its welcome.  I knew this because the indicator thingy was blinking.

An aside – I never had a Brita that had the indicator thingy until about 6 months ago.  In college, I knew it was time to change the filter after each quarter was over because, conveniently, quarters are almost exactly three months.  Then I was volunteering in a special education classroom and poured some water and I gushed, “Wow, this Brita has an indicator, so you KNOW when to change the filter!”  The teacher looked at me like one of her mentally challenged students and said, “Yes!” as though I had just made a great achievement.

So the thing is telling me that the filter needs to be changed and I start to panic.  How long has the filter been like this?  How many rancid glasses of water have I consumed? because I drink a lot of water.  I noticed about a week ago that there was one bar left, but, but, but what if immediately after I noticed, it changed?  What if I have been drinking unproperly filtered water for a week?  Then I taste the water I just poured and convince myself that, yes indeed this water is gross.  It smells weird and has a gross after taste (aftertaste?  no).  I wonder how I wasn’t able to discern the rancidity of the water prior to the indicator telling me so.  What have I become?  What else has slipped past me?  Oh, man.

So I put in a new filter and “discard the first two fillings,” as the instructions indicate and discard the third just for good measure.  As evidence of my weirdness I don’t restart the timer until I am done with all the refilling and discarding, because I don’t want the timer to be inaccurate.  What?  Yeah, I know that didn’t make sense.

I just learned that Abraham Lincoln was a notorious drinker. I guess I’m not surprised. But I can’t help but finally be interested in him. I wish they had told me that in third grade. My abolition diorama would have kicked ass. Now I want to kinda be friends with Abe and get drunk on moonshine. We could pretend we’re freeing slaves out of moral obligation and not for money. We could smoke his plantation hemp and get sloppy. I would wear his hat and do a little jig, we would laugh. Man, that would be fun. Darn you, John Wilkes Booth. I shake my fist at you.

Less cold equals more hot.

More hot does not equal more hot.