Like any rational being, I prefer to drink fresh running water. But in fulfilling this normal desire, I face three challenges. First, unlike the giant creatures that share my home, I am not able to manipulate the mysterious devices that cause water to flow. Second, I have not yet attained a mastery of communication with the creatures such that I can make my desires known to them. I am forced to cry out loudly, to gain their attention, and physically lead them to the source of water -- as though they forget, each day, where it is! Last, even when my thirst is slaked, the ordeal is not over, for I often find myself, soon thereafter, restrained and subject to a vigorous toweling off of the head. It has always been evident that the creatures are averse to cleanliness, but it is only at times like this that I see just how different we are. They most likely believe that they are doing me a kindness; so alien to their minds is the idea of being clean that they feel I must be injured somehow by mere proximity to water! They seem to believe that by drinking it, I've gotten it all over my head! It's remarkable.