Wash Your Hands

Photo by Unsplash

There’s a gross woman clearing her throat and coughing in my train car, and my germaphobia is acting up.

I don’t mean to be cruel - we’ve all been there. Sick. Likely contagious. But stuck moving forward with our daily routine. Infecting everyone else along the way...

How many times must I wash my hands to rid myself of this uncomfortable feeling?

Blech.

Where’s my hand sanitizer when I need it most?

Moving on...

It’s been a minute since I’ve written last. I’m trying to find inspiration. I’m trying to let my mind wander, but this coughing woman has become a wall. Here she goes again...

I wonder if I’m breathing her air. Contaminating my pristine lungs with her germs. I wonder how sick I’ll be later this week... or if I’ll be spared. I’m trapped in this train car with limited ventilation. Forty more minutes to go. Maybe I’ll fare better if I breath lighter? Or inhale only through my nose? Yea, that’s not happening.

I’m the type of guy who washes his hands before every meal or holds his food in a napkin. I’m the type of guy who cringes inside when I hear someone sneeze. Who flinches before taking food from someone else’s hand... and then deliberates whether or not it’s clean enough to eat. If you know me well enough.... you’ll see all of this. It’s nothing against you. It’s a me thing. I was raised a certain, germ conscious way as a child, and then took it to the extreme as an adult. I’m working past these hang ups. But not without an enormous amount of hesitation. I hate being sick. I hate feeling dirty. And other people continue to gross me out.

The infected woman has exited the train. I’m sure that she left a trail of germs behind her, but I feel slightly better. I feel bad for the unsuspecting victim who sits at her seat next. God bless. Glad it’s not me.

It’s almost my stop. Soon, I’ll be at my office. The bathroom. Can’t wait to wash my hands.

Stay clean, and have a great day!