A breathless announcer on the six-one news just now said, "We are at the lowest number of 'boil water notices' ever" 

I looked at herself. "Good Grief" I exclaimed. "Wow!" she agreed. "This calls for a celebration," I proudly announced. "We're no longer a third world country," she added. 

"Is there any of that Perrier water in the fridge?" I asked hopefully. "We used that for the engagement party, remember?" she replied. 

Then I assumed a devilish expression. "Will we chance the tap?" I asked darkly. She gave me that dubious look I know and hate. "You must be fucking joking.  I'll just stick to the bloody wine." 

I considered this a moment. "Very wise," I had to agree. "I'll fetch us the bottle."