Fair Enough.

So last weekend was actually a delightful one. I somehow had enough energy and motivation, and slightly less anxiety, about getting out of the house and actually doing shit.

The first thing we did on Saturday was go to the local town center to have lunch with my husband's mom and grandma. I ordered ceviche, which of course is raw fish, so that in itself was "brave" of me to take that risk, since I'm usually so food-phobic, especially in restaurants. I mean, OMG WHAT IF I GOT A PARASITE? ...Well, come to think of it, a nice roundworm or tapeworm or two could help me shed some of this unwanted weight....

Bygones.

Anyway, my other major accomplishment was that I let the baby eat tortilla chips...straight off the restaurant table. Now, if you'll please recall, this is what I've previously wiped up when I use Lysol wipes on restaurant tables:

Totes groce right?

I admit I did give a cursory swipe of the table with Sani-Hands...

 ...but didn't do my usual crazed wipedown deep cleaning like a white demon on crack. The baby also touched things like, OMG, the highchair, and crayons, and other things, and I still let her eat chips with her hands. This is a major accomplishment!

Afterward, we all wandered the toy store, and I actually let my kids touch stuff. I know, right?

Doesn't mean I didn't use large quantities of hand sani the second we got back in the car to go home, but still. Baby steps. Baby steps.

---

Sunday was by far the most fun day. The fam and I went to a local Farmers Market. They had everything you could ever want, from fresh peaches and blackberries and raspberries and corn and cucumbers and plums, to pastries and headbands and fairy wings and knit blankets and and glass sculptures and jewel earrings and just basically every beautiful or crafty thing under the sun. I went a little crazy and ended by buying a lot of things. Here's some of my loot:

This one shows the fuckamaze flowers I bought for a mere US$10, plus fresh-picked raspberries, these divine tiny plums that look and taste a bit like cherries, some pickled garlic (omg my husband will move out if I eat these), spices to make chip-dips with (lime-cilantro, garlic-habanero, and garlic & chive), some honey sticks for Maya, and this gorgeous glass bottle painted with ladybugs, perfect for Naomi's ladybug-themed room. I plan to put some lovely red flowers in it instead of using it for, say, olive oil or something.

The next pic shows a few of the things I forgot to add the first time, namely, a beautiful ladybug bracelet made especially for my little ladybug Naomi, and some beer-bread mix.

And at last, one more picture of my flowers, because they are the most delightful thing I've seen in a long time:

They make me so happy as I sit here typing, even right now:

The market was right on the naval station pier, so we had a gorgeous view of the Puget Sound and of the boats and such. It was such a beautiful day. I had a really wonderful time. Oh, and my major accomplishments for the day? I let Maya snack on a few fresh berries straight from the baskets, with her bare dirty hands and without washing the berries first and knowing full well that God knows who had pawed through them first. YAY ME!

Just kidding.

No, I mean, she did eat the berries, but cured? lol forever.

Anyway, it was a beautiful day.

---

On Monday, since my husband Code Red had the day off, we went to the Monroe Fair. I had actually been dreading it, since fairs are filthy business rife with smells of fried onions, filthy carnies, and vomit. I also knew we'd have to let Maya go on some rides, like the carousel, and she'd have to, yes, once again, touch things. Like, I know you don't get how hard this is for me, to merely let my kids touch things, but trust me, it's hard.

But we had a good time. It was another sunny day, and we wandered all about the grandstands, looked at all the cows and baby cows and pigs and baby pigs and goats and baby goats and other such adorableness. I even went on a ride or two, namely, the Super Shot, which brings you up approx 923749038523 feet in the air and then drops you in a dead freefall.

Here I am getting ready to go, stomach in delicious knots:

Here I am on my way up:

And here I am after my death-defying drop:

I am hardcore, yo. Even did it with a walking cast on.

It was a blast.

I also bought a few wonderful things, like a beautiful ring for on the cheap, and an even more beautiful bracelet (for $5!! She could have sold those things for $20 at least!). I also bought some carved wooden frames with the girls' names in them, which I will put photos in and hang on the wall. Oh, oh!! And three air plants! (The pics on that link do not do them justice.) I love them, they are so beautiful and sweet. I plan to put them in gorgeous tiny vases filled with glass beads. I hope I do not kill them, as I have a habit of killing even succulents, which are basically unkillable.

Oh and I let the baby have a taste of fair food. Fair food is notorious for being, let's just say, unsanitary. But I did it. I did it.

Here are a few (thousand) photos from our adventure:

These goats were snuzzling and loving on each other.

Precious dada and Maya.

Naomi remained unimpressed by the entire experience.

Gorgeous Maya and less-gorgeous JoJo who could benefit from a tapeworm or two from ceviche.

Fairs are so exciting you have to RUN!!

Maya is astounded by the tiny, tiny piglets born 17 days ago.

Is this considered a pornographic photo? BEWBS

Naomi's first ride ever! At first she was nonplussed by the experience, then had a blast.

Here I have to show you her intense concentration on getting this pony thing just right.

My gorgeous darling and a wee goat behind her.

And last but not least, the ickiest part of the day, seeing one of those stands that sells "lotion bars." (They look just like bars of soap but they're made of waxy lotion and you rub them about your hands to moisturize them.) They offer free sample bars for you to try, and I cannot begin to fathom the amount of filthy paws that had previously manhandled those lotion bars. Creeped me out so hard.

And on top of this very pleasant weekend, I've actually felt a bit...dare I say? Happy? Who knows, because my moods change on a dime, but I've felt a lot more content the last 24 hours or so. Maybe it's my new med, which, to treat symptoms, and I quote, is "unknown how it works at this time." Good times. But hey, if it works, it works, even if I'm taking something that might make me grow a third arm.

This weekend gave me hope. but being the Debbie Downer pessimist that I am, I can only wait for the other shoe to drop.

Oh well. I had me a v. nice weekend. And I hope you all did too. :)

Monday Musings.

Do you ever think about the things you touch on the restaurant table, like the salt & pepper or the ketchup bottle or *choke* *retch* the menu, and how many people before you have touched them with God knows what on their hands?

If you never thought about this stuff before, after reading this article, I bet you will.

PS: I like how that person claims to not be a germaphobe. I beg to differ. :) Sounds an awful lot like me when I go to a restaurant...

And Now to Answer Your Burning, Burning Questions!

chesea asks:

1. Is there anything about your OCD that you'd miss if you woke up tomorrow and were suddenly cured?

Well, not if I were cured of my actual FEAR of getting sick. But if I were cured of my "germ awareness," I'd miss that, because I happen to think it's actually a really good thing to be as aware of germs as I am. That's part of why my disorder is going to be so hard to "cure"--simply because I think that it's right and good to be so aware an conscious of germs. I know germs ARE on the things I think they're on, and I think it's best to avoid them if possible, or wash after coming into contact with them. So to answer your question, hell no I wouldn't miss the terror at hearing someone cough 8 mile away, and the absolute panic with which I'm bestricken when I come to pick my child up from preschool and I hear one of her little friends let out a huge sneeze, I'm but I would miss being aware of certain germs so that I could avoid them and be as clean and healthy as possible. If I were TOTALLY cured of this, I would probably get sick more often with both colds, tummy bugs, and who the hell knows what else. Hope that makes sense.

2. Can you feel ANY effect from those medications? Are they helping at all?

Honest to God, no. Not with regard to the OCD/anxiety aspect, at all. I'm taking some meds to help with irritability/atypical depression, and I do notice a difference there. (Finally, I don't want to smack my oldest child into next week All The Time. I kid, I kid. Just kidding, I kid about kidding. OK I kid about that too. OK FINE I'm HALF KIDDING ABOUT EVERYTHING YOU JUST READ.) So the meds are working with my OMGRAGE issues, but not even remotely with my OMGOCD issues. I feel absolutely no relief with my anxiety, and that's after taking everything under the sun for it. Hard-core shit, like Klonopin, Xanax, Buspar, etc.

3. How do you feel about natural cleaners (like vinegar instead of bleach)?

Well, I'm undecided. I take that back. I'm not into it so much. I mean, if you're cleaning something the baby's gonna lick, I wouldn't use Lysol wipes. Although I would probably use Clorox "Anywhere Spray," which insists it's safe to use in the immediate proximity of food and children. (It's a super, super mild bleach mixture, basically, and bleach in certain dilute concentrations is extremely safe. Which is why I luuurve my some bleach. Harsh enough to kill shit, gentle enough to swim in and drink.) I always hear what a good disinfectant natural cleansers are, and I suppose vinegar is fairly harsh and kills certain things, but it's not murderous enough for me. For things like cleaning windows? Sure. But if my kid had another one of her poosplosions of semi-automatic ass spray, I wouldn't feel confident cleaning her "drawing weasel" with vinegar. It would be Lysol wipes, then Lysol spray, and some bleach thrown around here and there, all the way, baby.

4. Did you worry about using a lot of harsh cleansers while you were pregnant?

I definitely did worry. I used rubber gloves all the time, every time I cleaned with Clorox or Lysol wipes or Comet scrub, and I was worried about the amount of hand sani I used. (I was like, is the amount of alcohol-based hand sani soaking into my system to the point where I'm using the equivalent of taking a shot?) So I worried, but not enough to stop using it. ;) I didn't really use anything with fumes much, or if I did, I would spray it, hold my breath, turn on the fan, close the door, and run, run away.

5. Do you prefer original scent Purell or the green "with aloe" Purell? :)

Original all the way. In fact, I hate those stupid hand sanis with lotion added too. They don't feel astringent enough for me. I don't want to feel moisturized, I want to feel dry and tight and crisp and alcoholed. It's a mental thing. Although as far as scent alone goes, I like Germ-X the best. Smells delish. Well, so do Bath & Body Works hand sanis. But yeah, no added moisturizers for me. It makes me feel dirty and gross.

6. Do you use ketchup/mustard packets when you're at a restaurant? Or do you disinfect them first?

I never really encounter those so much. Just regular bottles of ketchup and mustard sitting on the restaurant table. Oh well, I guess you're right, those packets do some with burgers at McDonalds. Yeah, if I do use packets, I'd def hand sani afterward. Packets of Splenda or sugar are bad enough. Those feel dirty to me too. And I guess I do encounter packets of hot sauce (fire sauce, specifically, because I'm a fire sauce kind of girl) when we go to Taco Bell--I use those and either Clorox-wipe them first, or use them them I hand-sani or wash. Usually because it's the cashier, not the food handler, who adds those to my bag of food, and That's Just Gross.

7. Cloth napkins at restaurants - stressful?

NOT UNTIL YOU MENTIONED IT GODDDD. But yeah, not especially. I suppose they should unnerve someone like me, but...I guess I deal all right with them. Lord I hope they use bleach though. Or color-safe bleach, whatevz. Probably they don't, but it's another one of those things I desperately don't want to give much thought to, lest I develop yet another "issue." Funny enough, I have far, far more of a problem with rolled up PAPER napkins, the kind they roll your silverware in and then secure with a rolly sticky paper thingy. Those, I feel, are super gross, from the napkin itself to the silverware they've diddled and doddled with. Because there's no way they wash their hands first. Ugh. They roll up our silverware at the restaurant we go to every week for trivia night, and I feel like those napkins and that silverware is just foul. I DON'T WANT ROLLED-UP SILVERWARE. DON'T TOUCH MY NAPKIN.

---

Excellent questions, ches. Feel free to ask more in our next installment, or any time you wish. :) xoxo.

Janice, the Not So Special Mother, asks:


1. What about people who want to shake hands? Do you go all Doc Holiday and say "Forgive me if I don't shake hands" or just suffer and wash up after? 

Oh God, how I hate, hate, hate shaking hands. Hate it with the fiery fires of hell. I will do it, though. I'm not ballsy enough to be all Howie Mandel and be like, "How about a fist bump instead?" I shake hands, but then my hand literally feels hot with the burning burning germs until I have the opportunity to wash at my earliest convenience, and I don't touch my face or mouth or food or child or anything with my right hand until I can wash. So yeah, I just suffer and wash up later. Maybe after I rise to internet fame and fortune, I will be able to pull a "forgive me if I don't shake hands, dahhling," but for now I just have to deal with it. But it's awful.

2. Also, how about touch screens in public? ATM's or order screens or whatever? Those are totally disgusting.

You are completely right. They are gross. Although everything you touch in person is gross. Pay phones, doorknobs, menus, ATM buttons (touchscreens or not), handrails, everything. But with touchscreens, I use my knuckles. I don't know why it feels safer to me, but it does. I knock the buttons super fast and hard with my knuckles instead of pressing them all juicylike with my fingertips. And yes, I use massive quantities of hand sani afterward, and then go home and wash. ;)

Thank you Janice! Good ones!

mommamaynard asks:



1. Did you nurse your babies? Did you have to sanitize your breast before latching your baby on? How did you handle nursing in public? I would think that nursing would actually make it easier to handle germs then with bottle, were bacteria creeps in every nook and cranny.

I did nurse my babies. Because I had terrible terrible nursing issues and never produced enough, I ended up exclusively pumping and supplementing, so I only ever nursed in public a few times, and that was with Maya, my firstborn. I nursed at the mall once, and then at a family holiday party another time. I would wash my hands first (like I did any time I nursed or, more accurately, attempted to nurse) and just take her somewhere private or through a blanket over my chest and nurse. Yes, nursing was somewhat easier than putting together a bottle of formula and worrying that the parts are touching a dirty table or something. Although exclusively pumping made everything hell on earth, having to plan around pumping sessions or even bring my pump with me, then worrying about storing the milk, etc. Basically, there was nothing easy about feeding my babies, ever. Argh.


2. How did you manage potty training with your oldest daughter? Did she have any poo accidents you had to deal with? (My friend had to throw her daughter's panties out when she pooed her pants at Boston Pizza, she WAS NOT carrying those filthy things around with her.)

Potty training went very smoothly and easily. Maya was potty-trained within a week. We just stayed at home, kept her naked from the waist down, and had her sit on the potty every 20 minute or something. It all went very easily. Cleaning her little Bjorn potty has been a super gross-out factor to me. I mentioned that here. But, yes, she has had accidents, even *shudder* poopy ones. There was the epic, epic diarrhea all over creation accident, which I documented, and there have been a couple other times when she has pooped in her panties, one time so bad I threw those things away, causing massive outrage on Maya's part. But I was NOT washing those or dealing with them. She has constipation issues and lets things go waaaay too long, so accidents are becoming more frequent now, and I kind of don't know what to do. :/

The one part of potty training that SUCKS is that she uses public restrooms. When we're at a restaurant and she has to use one, I use like 800 toilet seat covers staggered all over the whole damn toilet, tell her 799 times "Don't touch ANYTHING," and have a mild panic attack.


adelerium asks:


1. Do you worry about MRSA? That is the kind of stuff I worry about most for me and my kids, more than random colds or just the grossness of what other people have touched. 

I do worry about it, although not nearly as much as I worry about colds, flu, and other sickness. I'm not sure why. I know it's odd that I'd be more worried about my baby coming down with a cold than a flesh-eating antibiotic-resistant infection, but it's true. The one exception to this is that my husband has a recurring infection in his leg (he has some kind of weird pocket or crypt under the flesh there that just gets repeatedly infected), and I worry my ass off that he's going to get MRSA in it. As it is, he's gotten ridiculously bad infections in his leg before, and they've had to treat it with like three different extremely strong antibiotics and lance it and drain it and pack it full of iodine-soaked packing strips, etc. Wow, way more than you wanted to know. But to answer your question, yes, it is then that I worry terribly about MRSA. But if my kids get a scratch or a skinned knee, no, I don't panic. But if someone coughs in my general direction? PANIC CITY.

Thea over at The Lint Trap asks:


Once your baby is no longer a baby do you think your OCD will improve since a lot of it seems to stem from worry over her getting sick?

I think so, to some extent. Part of my fear is just that she's so little, so young, and doesn't know how to deal with getting sick. She can't clear her nose or throat very well. It's scary and dangerous. I worry about Maya when she gets a cold, but it's nothing like the worry I feel for the baby. I think that will simmer down as the baby gets older. But I don't see myself changing my habits (both normal and very extreme) as she grows, unless I've found effective treatment and I no longer obsess or compulse. Still, I look forward to the day when my little one catching colds isn't such a terrible fear for me.

---

Thanks, Thea. Thanks in fact to all y'alls for participating in the 1st Annual Ask Me Shit Convention. xoxoxoxo!

THE BOLT INCIDENT.

One fine day, years and years ago, my mother and I set out to have lunch at the Olive Garden. Pure class, I know. But come on, their breadsticks. Delicious.

So I ordered my favorite meal, the Capellini Pomodoro. When it arrived, I took my fork in hand and gave the pasta a nice stir. Suddenly, a bolt appeared before me. I repeat. A BOLT. A fuck. ing. bolt.

The second I saw it, I stood up and backed away in surprise, nearly toppling my chair. I was stunned beyond belief. A bolt. I mean, of all the unsavory things you have heard of finding in food--hairs, bugs, bandaids--but a metal bolt?

I called the waiter over, explaining the situash, and he said he'd talk to the manager.  I expected the manager to rush over on bended knee (though that would be logistically difficult), pleading for my forgiveness, and basically offer me his firstborn. Instead, the manager strolled over to me and the first words out his mouth were, "I'm sorry, but we have no bolts like that of any kind anywhere in our kitchen."

...So, you see, effectively blaming ME for putting the bolt in my food. As if I had been attempting to score a free meal out of it all.

Now, again, let me say. If one wanted a free meal, what might one sneak into their Capellini Pomodoro? A beetle? A short, suspiciously wiry hair? A peanut, claiming deathly allergies? WAIT NO, HAI I KNOW, A FUCKING THREE-INCH-LONG METAL FUCKING BOLT. That's the ticket. That's what I'll slip into my meal. It's foolproof!! It's genius! I'm a fucking wizard!

So yeah, the manager was basically calling me a liar. I did get a free replacement bowl of Cap/Pom out of it, but God only knows what they secretly put in it the second time around. I said a prayer to the Patron Saint of Disgruntled Food Workers and ate my new & improved 100% bolt-free pasta.

But you better believe that I Wrote a Letter. Because I Write Letters. When I experience a great injustice, I write letters, and I GET RESPONSES. I am the queen of writing letters. (Por ejemplo, I got $1,100 out of Fred Meyer once for ruining a roll of film I took in to be developed. I am That Good.)

Anyway, after writing my letter, and receiving a personal call from the Head Honcho of the O.G. herself, I think I could have eaten free for a week there because of how many vouchers I got. She was astonished at my tale of being served Capellini al Bolt, and was covering her ass truly apologetic.

And since then, I have bravely dined at the Olive Garden other times. I've come to expect certain atrocities: chicken that tastes bafflingly like sausage; salad that is soggy 10 out of every 10 times; lipstick on the water glasses; etc. But at least I've found no more metal equipment or tools of any sort in my mediocre Italian cuisine.

Oh, and if you ever need a letter of complaint written for you, that will be ten (10) American U.S. dollars, please.

I Think It's High Time for Another "Things I Do" Post.

So to continue the very, very non-exhaustive list of Things I Do, today's installment is:

Things I Do: Restaurant Edition.

My anxiety reaches some of its highest heights when we visit a restaurant, especially a certain one that we frequent once a week for Trivia Night. It's a family-friendly pub, so we tote along the chitlins. And while in theory it's nice for this here stay-at-home-mom to get out of the house once a week, in actuality it really does cause large amounts of stress. But at the same time it's fun, because, TRIVIA NIGHT! I do love me some trivia. Also I love money. And we win a lot. :)

But at restaurants, particularly this one, here is a partial list of Things I Do:

• We usually park in the lower parking lot, and take the elevator up with the kids. I use the bottom of my shirt to press the elevator button--it's just second nature--and I didn't even really think about it until one day I saw my three-year-old do the exact same thing. I laughed so hard, then I cried a little inside at the tiny germaphobe I was inadvertently creating, but then I laughed again. Because I couldn't believe she was so observant, especially with things I make no spectacle out of doing.
• Upon arrival, before letting Maya touch anything ("DON'T TOUCH!"), we immediately break out the tub of antibacterial Sani-Hands and wipe down the table. This seemed appropriate when Maya was still a baby in a high chair (which we'd cover with a high-chair cover, natch), because her hands were all over the table and then they'd go straight in her mouth. But we still do this now that she's approaching four years old (although I always look around in embarrassment before and as we do it, because I feel like people are thinking we are nuts, much like you non-OCDer are thinking this very second). But do you know what? You would start wiping down your table if you saw what comes off on those wipes. If you place a disinfecting wipe flat on the table, and put your hand on it to wipe the whole bitch down, do you know what you find on that wipe? A completely black handprint. The tables are positively grimy. Every time we wipe them down, we stare at disbelief at the blackened wet-wipe.

Lest you think I am exaggerating, on two separate occasions I took photographic evidence, just so that I could show you, faithful reader. Observe what remains on your restaurant table after it is everso hastily wiped down with a germ-ridden damp rag by a nonchalant waiter being paid minimum wage to keep your eating area clean:

I mean, what could even CAUSE that much grime? Are people changing their babies' shit-filled diapers on the table? Are people table-dancing in their farm boots? Are people's hands and arms really this dirty??* And this is a very respectable, very pleasant, very nice, and, to the naked eye, a very clean-looking joint. But behold what appears where you least expect it. Christ on a Saltine.

*Yes.

One article summarizes my thoughts quite well:

Surface Testing Reveals Restaurant Tables Have Higher Germ Count Than Changing Tables Or Shopping Carts 

"In tests conducted by Dr. Chuck Gerba, professor of Environmental Microbiology at the University of Arizona, restaurant tabletops had more than double the bacteria count of the diaper changing tables tested. The analysis showed that changing tables had 106 colony forming units (CFU) of bacteria per square inch, while restaurant tabletops turned up 268 CFU per square inch.

'We knew that tabletops were problem areas,' said A.J. Mesalic... 'But we were surprised by how high the germ count was in comparison to the other surfaces tested. The preponderance of research tells us that surface germ protection is necessary. Sure adults are exposed to the same problem surfaces, but our immune systems are fully developed. Still these harmful microbes can make adults very sick as well.' 

According to Dr. Gerba, there is a minority view* in the public and medical profession that says germs are ‘good for you.' 'In fact, our studies have shown that many of the germs we find on public surfaces, and even in the home, absolutely will make children sick with no meaningful benefit of increased immunity,' he said."

God bless you, Dr. Gerba.

*"Minority view" my ass, though. The got-damn Hygiene Hypothesis is the New Black. Everyone's spouting off these days about how antibacterial soap is slaughtering our children and that kids need to lick the bottom of their shoes and give Eskimo kisses to the neighbor kid who has a snot waterfall on his face, all in the name of building their immune system.

• We wash after handling the menu and deciding on our cuisine du jour. Have you ever seen anyone wash a menu? Funny, I haven't either. And have you ever noticed that they are streaked and grimy and fingerprinty with God knows what? Yeah. F to the Y to the I, they contain an estimated count of 185,000 bacteria. Enjoy browsing the food selection and then relishing your Santa Fe Burger, licking delicious e.coli, staph, rhinovirus, enterococcus, and shigella off your juicy digits.
• We handle the ketchup, salt, and pepper with a napkin. All the above-mentioned bacteria and viruses, plus so many more, can and usually do appear on these things according to many a study. Sometimes Maya reaches for the condiments on the table, and I have a massive freak-out and scream quietly, "DON'T TOUCH!!" (Which by now you can certainly tell is a favorite phrase in our family, and we employ it regularly.)
• We do not use the lemon slices in our iced tea, nor do we let our lemon-loving child eat them. You have no idea what is lingering on them, but you might want to read up.
• When using the restroom, I use two layers of toilet-seat covers, placed ever so slightly off-center from each other. (Have you ever sat down, only to feel the insufficiently-sized seat cover shift under your weight, and feel the horrifying sensation of cold porcelain on your bum-bum? Well I have, and that was the last time I ever used just one seat cover.) Two seat covers seems to do the trick of covering all exposed toilet seat areas. And when I take my preschooler in to go potty? Sweet Jesus. First of all, I say a quick prayer to the Patron Saint of Public Restrooms, because using them is one of my most anxiety-ridden experiences, especially with a child. So when Maya goes potty, the first thing I do is tell her 14 times, "Don't touch ANYTHING." Then, I use FOUR seat covers (sorry, environment). I first place two covers half on the seat, half hanging down in front of the seat, because otherwise her legs touch the bowl of the porcelain god. Then on top of that, I place the two off-center seat covers for her to sit on. Then I have her drop trou, and I pick her up by her back and the crotch of said dropped-trou, and place her in one firm motion on the covered seat. When she is finished, I pick her straight up off it, lest she wiggle or touch it. Then as I flush with my foot (sorry, people stupid enough to flush with their hands), I tell Maya no fewer than eleven more times, "Don't touch anything." Then I go wash thoroughly. And since she has touched nothing, because I have trained her well she is a wise old soul, rather than risk using the restroom sink, I just take her back and use hand sani on her.
• I REFUSE to use the strip of toilet paper that is already hanging from the dispenser. I tear off whatever toilet paper is hanging down and toss it, then use "new" TP.
• The handwashing process, of course, is thus: First I roll down excessive amounts of paper towel (sorry again, environment). Then I turn on the water, use soap, and scrub up extremely well. Then, leaving the water still on (still sorry, environment), I rip off the paper towel, dry my hands, and then use said paper towel to turn off the faucets and open the bathroom door to exit. Sry 2 say, this is the only acceptable way to wash your hands in a public place. And if they have no paper towels but only blow-dryers? First, I curse the restaurant owners, their sons, and their sons' sons (a klebsiella plague on both your houses!), and then I use whatever means necessary to not touch the faucets (a handful of toilet seat covers in lieu of paper towel, or my sleeve, or in the worst case scenario, my wrist, which I will later disinfect).
• And when all is said and done, and we are finished eating, we get in the car and apply large doses of hand sanitizer. This is before arriving home, washing our hands, and using yet more hand sanitizer.
• Also, if I have worn a short-sleeved shirt to the restaurant that night, and thus my arms have rested on the table, I use alcohol-based Sani-Hands wipes all over my forearms. Yes. This one is a hard one to admit. Because, hello, embarrassing. But fuck! You saw what was on those tables!!

So you can see that going to a restaurant is quite an ordeal. Sometimes I'm not sure that it's worth it, with the undue amounts of anxiety it causes me. But I do love me a nice Reuben sandwich, the free desserts we win, and oh yeah, taking home the $$ POT $$, baby, because we kick some major bum-bum at trivia!


This article sums up my thoughts nicely and tidily:

"7 germiest places; Germs lurk on menus, lemon wedges, condiment and soap dispensers. Don't touch that dial - better yet don't touch anything, especially if you're germ-phobic."

"Better yet, don't touch anything" are the words I live by and are the most precious gift I could give my children. Er, I mean, will cause them to become paranoid psychotics like me.

Next up: Things I Do, Hotel Edition.