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At the office, I had a system. The minute I arrived at my desk each morning, I’d shove my purse into the bottom drawer of my filing cabinet, hang my coat on a nearby hook, and head into the kitchen for some water. Not asipof water, or even aglassof water, but a full-on one-liter carafe. I found a few in a cabinet during my first week on the job: branded with Condé Nast on the side and almost certainly intended for guests and important meetings. No one ever told me that I couldn’t commandeer one for myself, so I did—every single day.
The carafe made drinking water at work into a game for me. At first my goal was to finish one full liter in a day, then two, then nearly three. I felt fancy filling and refilling my cup from the sturdy glass pitcher, and its flared lip made pouring easy. When I finished a task, I’d take a sip to celebrate. If something was stumping me, I’d think it over while having a drink. I was productiveandhydrated, a dreamy combination. Thanks to the carafe, I was a beacon of wellness.
Now I am working from home, and in an interesting turn of events, I seem to have forgotten about water entirely. I have spent the last few weeks shriveling up like a raisin due to lack of moisture, despite the fact that in my small apartment, I am never more than 15 feet from a sink. I make myself a cup ofteain the morning (somewater, at least!!) and then, later, when I lift themugto my mouth and find that it is empty, do absolutely nothing about it. “Oh,” I think, extremely dehydrated, my body turning into sand. “There is no more liquid. I am so thirsty. Unfortunately there is no way to fix it, as I am here on this couch and there is no water within arm’s reach. This empty mug is my destiny.”
I’ve tried toting a water bottle from room to room, but even my trustySwell, beloved in The Before Times, cannot persuade me to take even one sip. Our normalglassware, which I can empty in a single gulp, seems too dinky to bother bringing to my workspace, so I leave it on the shelf. Like washing my hair or wearing shoes, drinking water feels like an enormous chore and possibly not even necessary—except forgoing sneakers or shampoo doesn’t make me feel like garbage at the end of the day. Turns out, water is extremely important! And like a big dumb idiot, I need some supplies to trick myself into drinking it.
I am absolutely sure I wouldn’t be like this if I still had a desk carafe. If I’d accessed even an ounce of self-awareness while establishing a WFH routine, I’d have realized that without a nice cup and hefty pitcher to keep me company, I would simply not drink water at all, all day long, and then I'd feel terrible. A carafe, I now realize, was like a gummy vitamin but for work-week hydration: a good-for-me thing wrapped in fun packaging to con me into taking care of myself. I need to buy one immediately if I want to right the ship. Something beautiful and practical, with serious weight but also a delicate side, to give me some thirst-quenching purpose throughout the day. I can’t promise that it will make me more productive, but I know it’ll tip the scales a tiny bit toward wellness; right now, with my hair in a day-5 topknot and my mules gathering dust in the closet, every little bit counts.
