I swore to God, today would be the day when I wouldn’t touch my face. In fact, I’d promised myself that I’d be a model pandemic citizen today – hunker down at home all day, work remotely, wash my hands frequently, maintain a positive mental attitude for the kids and the co-workers, stay alive.
That lasted about 15 minutes.
And the sun hadn’t even come up yet when I realized I won’t last a day when the zombie apocalypse starts right after this current crisis is over.
I snuck out of the house this morning at about 6:45 to surprise my wife with a full tank of gas for her car, and a coffee to-go. She works in a hospital so she deserves a little treat, right?
Portable hand sanitizer in my pocket, I ordered her coffee through the app, and then I carefully planned out how I’d pump the gas without picking up them germs. Here was my brilliant plan:
- Use just the pinky on my right hand to type in the zip code on the gas pump PIN pad, after I swipe the credit card.
- Use just my left hand to pump the gas.
- Return the gas hose to the pump thingy, close the car’s gas tank cover, and use the hand sanitizer on both hands.
- Fetch the coffee by opening the shop’s door with my hands inside my sweatshirt, so as to keep my hands clean.
I hadn’t even pumped a gallon of gas into the car before – wait for it – I stuck my right hand pinky straight into my itchy right eye. Squished it all around in there, good and itchy and gross and satisfying and completely mindless to what I was doing, until I wasn’t.
Well, all we can do is try, I suppose.
The scene of the crime.