Did you wash your hands? Did the person before you? Mysophobia anyone?
I cannot tell you how agitated I get when I witness some habits of people and their ability to affect (infect) my life.
No, I am not a compulsive, mysophobic, although there are times I wonder what is so wrong with practicing a little mysophobia anyway. Maybe those with the disorder are on to something.
Ever ride a bus or subway, or any vehicle used for mass transit? Ever sit and watch the people, sneeze into their hands, eat, cough, and pick at things and then grab the handrail or door handle and you say to yourself “gee, what a pig?” Ever not see it and think you are safe and never really think about the people on that same ride BEFORE you. Notice how many supermarkets have the sanitizing wipes by the carts now? I read somewhere that 78 percent of shopping carts have fecal matter detected on them. What you can’t see sometimes can infect you.
Today, I had the displeasure of having one of my all time pet peeves witnessed. I was in a public restroom at a McDonalds. It was clean enough. After doing my business, I washed my hands. I lathered, I scrubbed, I cleaned. Then I went looking for a hand towel. None. They had these blowers to dry my hands. Okay. I can push on it with my elbow. I can stand there for another minute or two, and viola, clean dry hands.
Just then, it happened. Two young girls and their mother came out of the other stall. Mom with a baby in one hand and a diaper in the other. They opened the bathroom door and left. Each grabbing the handle.
Now even though my hands are clean and dry, I don’t know what I am touching there – I feel trapped in the bathroom.
I remember when the paper towel was there. We were taught to grab a towel, turn on the water, wash, turn off the water using the towel, and using the same towel, open the door and toss the towel on the way out.
Now, no matter how much we practice safe and clean habits, we have to wonder about the habits of others. All in the name of saving the neatness of the bathroom? I would much rather walk into a bathroom with hand towels on the floor next to the exit, than to wonder who touched the door before me on the way out.
Maybe the sink should be on the outside of the bathrooms.
I am just saying…
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