Occasionally I participate in the husband/wife movie compromise. You know, one testosterone-packed man-movie in exchange for a quality estrogen-inducing romantic comedy. On one such occasion we viewed a dark, mechanic-y, action flick with dirt and fire and graffiti and abandoned cars (The name of which escapes me. Nor does it matter because they’re all the same, no?).

This particular flick had a woman from the future who returned to the past. Her first stop was this seedy little bar where she walked in, sat upon a bar stool, ordered a large glass of water, then gulped the entire thing down with a sigh as she said, “I miss this stuff”.

How terrifying!

I love water.
Water to drink, water to bath, water to play, water to energize, water to grow.

The thought of having to witness my favorite lake dry up into the canyons is enough to bring tears (of water!) to my eyes.

The thought of not being able to turn on the faucet to pour myself a glass of the most amazing thirst quencher on Earth puts me in a state of panic.

If I live to be 71, I’m not worried I’ll miss out on antiquated electronics. I believe those things will far surpass my dreams (and if they don’t, maybe I will have invented one!). And I’m certain we’ll evolve to replace specific natural resources we’ve plundered. But not the ancient magical potion that makes up 70% of our being!

So, short of encapsulating an entire desalination plant (hey, Plinky, can I DO that?), I’m going to fill my capsule with as many bottles of water I can fit.

(and perhaps the keys to a Delorian so I may return to the past if need be to collect more fresh agua.)