Terror at the gas pump: A morning story

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:

  1. 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.
  2. Use just my left hand to pump the gas.
  3. Return the gas hose to the pump thingy, close the car’s gas tank cover, and use the hand sanitizer on both hands.
  4. 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.

The horror.

This sucks.

Well, all we can do is try, I suppose.

Shell eReceipt DAVID, thank you for your purchase at Shell

The scene of the crime.

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