A Puddle Mystery

I've been having a puddle mystery. Over the past week or so, I am coming to my kitchen to step into a huge puddle or two, of I-don't-know-what. As I am always either barefoot of wearing sox in my apartment, this always results in a grossed-out yelp. I wondered if Oliver was having accidents. Leaving puddles of crystal clear, non-staining, odorless urine.

I have the best dog ever!

No, I was pretty sure that couldn't be it, and as we are in a drought right now, I was confident it wasn't coming from a leak in the roof.

Today at lunch, I figured it out when I opened the fridge to find all of my items in the door dripping with water...water coming from my Brita tank which has a nozzle which is clearly being pushed open when I shut the fridge door, thus unloading all the water into the fridge which then drools it out onto the kitchen floor.

Awesome.

It reminded me somehow, stop me if you've heard this one (or, just stop reading), of when I was in middle school, walking home one afternoon from Galvin Junior High. In my town, there was this super creepy dude - likely a drunk or addict or something, who would wander the main street like a zombie. My friend and I, while still in elementary school, once watch as he vomited down the front of himself with seemingly no knowledge that he'd just done so.

The time I am thinking of, however, is when I was walking home from school and I passed him on the street. Freaked-out and walking alone (in broad daylight, I'll point out), I picked-up my pace. I heard his footsteps behind me and realized he was following me! I walked faster, and I heard him doing the same. Soon, I was running and I could hear his feet pounding the pavement behind me. I glanced back and realized that it wasn't creepy dude following me in an effort to kidnap me in his drunken, disfunctional stupor (in broad daylight), but rather, I was hearing the sound of a strap on my backpack, whacking against my bag as I stepped.