NOTE: I'm trying to import my old posts into the new blog. Bear with me. I'll try to skip the most boring of boring. Promise.
Today found me at our local theatre, enjoying the movie “Up in the Air” with ThatManILove. Fun stuff, that!
Until....the urge came upon me. Yes, that urge. I had imbibed too much of my 1 liter Dasani water and had to crawl across my husband’s legs to make it to the ladies’ room. We’re in Theatre 14, which means I have access to the least utilized bathroom - yahhh!
I go in. It seems clean enough. Onwards, I trudge, past stall 1, to stall 2. (Wonder how many people do that? I should probably go in stall 1, if it’s clean.) I open the door, ready the place (which means I killed three trees lining the toilet seat with toilet paper, not that I even sit down on it) and do my business. I slide the latch with my elbow, and open the door with my foot.
All while counting. Don’t ask me where that came from, I’m just trying to get out of there asap.
I’m so ready to get out of there, I get to the main door and reach for the handle when I realize I’ve been so concentrating on getting out of there, I’ve not yet washed my hands. I turn, and run back to the sink, where for once in my life there is hot water and soap. HALLELUJAH! Can you sing Happy Birthday and still count? I did it!
I wash my hands, and turn to the air dryers, still counting. I turn on the air dryer with my elbow, and start drying my hands.
And then, I remember someone saying how more germs go through those air dryers than any other appliance.
I start praying over the air dryers like I pray over my food...”Lord, please dry my hands to the nourishment of my body, and kill all those germs.” Crap. What number was I on? Dang it!
Finally, my hands are dry enough. I pull my hand into my hoodie, and open the bathroom door. I feel like I’m a prisoner, been set free.
Lord help me.