My wife and I went to my buddy Terry's yesterday for some poolside fun, and while the food and the weather and the water and the company were all fantastic, the best thing about this outing to the suburbs of Manalapan—which is a fairly long drive from Highland Park, especially due to the state of Route 18—is that my wife left her Big Dumb Cup at Terry's house (and this blunder was in no way engineered by me . . . I'm not that smart) and so my wife's menacing behemoth cup (and the straw) are a good thirty-five minutes from our kitchen . . . but now my wife is threatening to buy another Big Dumb Cup to replace this one—because apparently all of our other water bottles suck—so my nightmare might be doubled if my wife purchases another one and then Terry returns the one she left . . . right now I'm enjoying life out from under the looming shadow of the Big Dumb Cup, but for how long, for how long?
