Went downstairs this afternoon to make some turkish coffee. I ran some water out of the tap and into my little coffee pot; in the glare from the kitchen window I noticed a vile-looking film on the surface of the water. I rinsed out the pot and tried again, thinking it was perhaps the messiness of my own kitchen affecting the water.

Nope: it was the messiness of Berea's nasty water supply.

Not long after that I stepped outside to get the mail (the moping mailman must be on disability; we have a different letter carrier now who actually delivers the mail during daylight hours). In today's junk was a special message from Mayor Biddlecombe and the water department -- a brochure, actually -- packed with lots of little facts and figures carefully assembled to assure everyone in the town of Berea that everything is A-OK with their water supply. No matter how it tastes. Or what it looks like. Or the stains it leaves on surfaces after it (eventually) evaporates.

Alane knew for a long time how bad Berea water is, but she didn't tell me before we moved in. It took me a few weeks to pinpoint the taste: it's not chemical and it's not vegetable. It's almost a saltiness. It tastes like sweat.

Tonight we ate leftover meatballs and gravy from Sunday. I opened a bottle of Matthew Fox merlot. Bought it at the local Marc's for about $3.29. What a bargain! Alane watched my face as I took the first sip. It wasn't bad. It also wasn't good -- but the price! So I drank it down while I ate my spaghetti, and that's when I noticed the peculiar "finish." Blech-o.

I don't suppose I'll be buying more of that. Oh well, it's still better than the tap water (no matter how hard the mayor tries to convince me otherwise).