I Dream of Big Cup

I work in the basement, where there is no running water. This is not an elaborate metaphor for my professional stagnation or some kind of over-dramatization of workplace oppression – I type this from the desk in my damn basement, with a pile of kid’s clothes on a shelf to the right and a couple of broken laptops stashed off to the left. We are probably not maximizing the space. Anyway, the basement

All things equal, the basement isn’t a bad place to work. Probably the best place in the house. It has some drawbacks. There is only one outlet down here, so one must unplug the washing machine if they are to do blogs during the workday. The windows that face the street don’t have glass in them, so occasionally the weather will peak through. But what the basement has that the rest of the house does not is isolation. None of the fun stuff is down here, none of the snacks or books or fun computers or videogames or sunlight or fresh air that might rob one of productivity.

But it also lacks water, and hydration is important. Working in the basement means going upstairs to get water (and, yes, also go to the bathroom, yes) , and going upstairs to get water means taking a moment to sit on a couch or step outside or make a hot dog or read the entirety of The Mexican Tree Duck by James Crumley. You get it, you see the issue.

Modern problems require modern solutions: I require a Big Cup.

Perhaps you have questions, reactions.

How big must the cup be? Imagine the biggest cup in your home, now imagine that it is bigger, many times bigger. This is what the situation requires.

Could I not simply drink my water from a plastic milk jug like some kind of body-builder on television? – Friend, have you not heard of microplastics? They are in babies now, or some other such terror. I refuse to let Big Microplastic continue its howling stranglehold on my body, and I encourage you to do the same.

How many ounces must the big cup hold? The Surgeon General (probably) suggests that men drink almost four damn liters a day, which shakes out to 125 ounces, so the cup should ideally hold that much water, but I will settle for a big cup that holds 75 ounces. I am not unreasonable.

Couldn’t you just go upstairs? What, and break the flow of productivity? How many times do YOU think you can read The Mexican Tree Duck? It’s not Crumley’s best work by any stretch. The whole point is to not need to get up to refill the current water bottle (a paltry 24 ounces, like the water vessel of a medieval peasant), to just sip and work and work and sip until all the work is finished and all the water is sipped, mutually assured destruction of both tasks and dehydration.

Bring me the Big Cup.