The water you touch is "wet" because "wet" is the sensation your body experiences.

Wetness is not a property of water but a report from the nervous system, which is one of the quieter shocks of nonduality and monism. The world does not arrive pre-labeled; it crystallizes into "cold," "wet," "solid" only at the point where a body meets it. Everywhere your attention is not, reality stays a kind of unrendered fog — real, but not yet sorted into sensation. So the boundary between self and world turns out to be the place where experience happens, not a wall between two separate things. If the qualities we swear are "out there" are actually the texture of our own contact with the one field, what does that make the toucher and the touched? Where, honestly, do we end?