I need to be more specific

I was clearing off the table in preparation for dinner this evening and Rachel was following me around, just begging to be put to work. I could tell. Mothers can always tell.

So I handed her an empty water bottle. We store tap water in our empty water bottles, just in case the water gets shut off. We've had several bad water experiences and we're a little paranoid, so thanks to the ingenious nature of my mother-in-law, we now have boxes and boxes of water in our spare bathroom. I'm not sure I would ever cook with it or drink it (we have boxes of potable water in our kitchen for such purposes) but it's great for flushing the toilet when you run out of water. I think that's all it will ever be used for...I'm not sure I'd even shower with it...not after it's been sitting unpreserved for months in our spare bathroom.

When David was here visiting, he grabbed a water bottle from the bathroom instead of from the kitchen when we left to go to Luxor. We got to Luxor and he's like, "Wow. Do all these bottles get filled from the same spring?"

"Yes..." I answered, "Why?"

"Because this bottle of water tastes like dirt. So weird because the other bottle that we drank at your house tasted fine."

"Did you get that bottle from the bathroom or the kitchen?" I asked.

"The bathroom, why?"

"That's tap water."

Luckily he had only drunk a little bit of it (because it tasted bad); apparently he had jet-lagged his way through our "drinkable water is in the kitchen; tap water is in the bathroom" lecture that all of our house guests go through.

Anyway...I handed Rachel an empty water bottle, which she knows goes in the spare bathroom, and I said, "Here, Rachel, will you do something with this for me?"

"Yeah!" she agreed pleasantly. Then she hit herself on the head, twice, with the bottle and threw it across the room.

I definitely need to be more specific.