For clearly deluded reasons, I have always thought water from my kitchen faucet is drinkable whereas water from my bathroom faucet is not.
These waters arrive at my house from the same source, run through pretty much the same pipes, flow from the same brand of spout, yet I consider a glassful from the sink where I wash dirty dishes to be somehow cleaner than a glassful from the sink where I wash my sweaty armpits.
Even mud-clad headhunters who still worship carved wooden phallus totems would consider such an obvious delusion to be rather silly, laughing at my primitive beliefs while preparing to shrink my underdeveloped skull.
But at least I have indoor plumbing.
Ultimately, I suppose it's because I identify the kitchen with imbibing liquids and the bathroom with expelling them; as if water from the bathroom faucet is guilty by association, tainted by an undesirable proximity to waste products and soap scum. My kitchen, on the other hand, is the domain of soothing teas, imported coffees, wine, beer, and everything aqua vitae.
So being a person who is never keen to confront his fears or analyze his own irrationality, I outflank this mental aberration by only drinking imported bottled water.
And for some clearly deluded reason I have always thought bottled water imported from an Icelandic glacier is too expensive, whereas bottled water imported from a French mountain stream is not.