i met a woman today who had an inordinate amount of compulsion regarding the passage of water. she had several hundred plastic containers ranging in all sizes and shapes, some battered and cracked but never the less critical in her mad race to contain every drop that casually dripped from the bathroom faucet to the mist of spray that shot from the sprinkler and did not reach the plant but rather the undeserving concrete and then back she would rush to check the progress of the filling of the cottage cheese container from the squirt that came steadily from the crack in the garden hose and if the containers were not enough or filled too rapidly, she would begin to wring the many cloths that had been carefully arranged around the forementioned containers as the careful back up plan to keep all these water molecules in their precise place and moment for precious process of staying sane at any cost of time or method, if only for the duration of the sad life at hand.