Somewhere in the Vicinity of Godliness

I have a gorilla bag. Sounds scary, but I promise it's not. It's one of these, a shoulder bag that I carry everywhere. Gorilla bags are weatherproof, lightweight, have an extra long strap, and also have the added attraction of having a tiny furry gorilla hanging from a ring on the strap. Named, no less. My gorilla is Sonia. My bag is orange, but I don't care, I don't care what color I wear, I carry that bag. It's like my green shoes. I love them so much I don't care if they match or not. You should see me in my red shirt, blue pants, green shoes, black coat, and orange bag. Let's just say I can't really sneak up on anybody.

The greatest thing about the gorilla bag, however, is that it will hold everything you own. It holds everything I own, and I own a lot, so I'm sure it will hold everything of yours, too. Hell, it might hold everything we both own.

And so every once in a while I have to clean out the gorilla bag, where I will find such items as clothespins (everywhere I look in my life I see a clothespin), empty bank envelopes, fingernail polishes I have never and will never use, clarinet reeds, Barack Obama buttons (last 3 months), protein bars, bottles of perfume, more tubes of chapstick than should be allowed, and change. Change gathers in my bag to the point where I can't throw it over my shoulder without hurting myself and possibly the person closest to me, and that's normally why I clean it. Clothespins and empty bank envelopes I can deal with.

Now, as you all know, my mom, aka Granny, was in the hospital last month. She spent about a week there, half of it in intensive care, but she's well now and doing fine, and I thank you all for your good wishes for her.

It's an odd thing, intensive care. I love it. I mean, no offense, I don't want anyone to be sick, but after my surgery some years ago I spent my time in intensive care, and have hung out with Granny now in a different hospital's ICU, and it's cozy and the care is, well, intensive. You're not ignored, the staff are nice to you, and that's that.

But occasionally things have to be done in intensive care, and the family have to say goodbye and make themselves scarce. And one afternoon when my dad and I had to make ourselves scarce, we went out into the intensive care waiting area, which has a TV, phone, really bad magazines, and a wall full of brochures.

So as I said, Granny's back home safe now, and time has come and gone, I've Oktoberfested and clarinet duetted and podcasted and gone to work, and scanned the police blotter for funny crimes.

But yesterday my change had once again gotten too heavy for me to carry around and so I decided it was time for a bag clean-out. And I found something in the back zippy compartment of my gorilla bag I'd forgotten all about.

That day Dad and I had to make ourselves scarce, I was browsing the wall of brochures in the ICU waiting area and found something I couldn't resist having a look at. And it was all I'd hoped for, and so I kept it, stored it away in that bag to be found again when I least expected it.

It's a gem of a brochure. It's called, and I quote, "Handwashing: Your Most Powerful Defense Against Infections."

Now, I guess I'm a pretty normal handwasher. I don't think I'm obsessive about it, but I guess I do it enough that my hands are always chapped and dry, but you also realize I have no dishwasher, so I have to do that by hand as well. I always think I wash my hands when it's necessary, when God intended, like after going to the bathroom and emptying the trash can.

But what a goldmine of information this little tome is. Want proof?

The very first page, well, the first thing you see when it tri-folds out, is the all important "When Should You Wash Your Hands?" To which my immediate reply is, "When they're dirty," but apparently I'm not in the real handwasher's loop, because here is their take on it. When should we wash our hands?

- Before getting ready to eat. (I seldom do this, because I feel like my hands are already clean, and, well, you know, I use a fork.)

- Before/During/After preparing food. (I do this when handling raw chicken, but I've never, in the middle of making a cheese sandwich, felt the need to stop and run to the faucet, I must admit.)

- Before and after treating a cut or wound, or tending to someone who is sick. (Sorry, Grandma, I love you dearly, but you're germy. Pardon me for a minute.)

- Before and after changing a baby's diaper. (I got no problem here, especially the "after," though I'm not so sure why you need clean hands to touch shit.)

- After touching animals. (I know this is accepted practice, but I poo on that theory. I like animals, and I'm not washing my hands every time I touch one.)

- After using the bathroom. (Well, of course, and if you don't do that, please don't offer to shake hands with me. Or make me a cheese sandwich.)

- After performing any personal body function: touching hair, scratching any part of the body, putting hands in or around mouth, etc. (Touching your hair? If I washed my hands every time I touched my hair, I'd have to carry a sink around with me, on shoulder straps, like a marching snare drum. And I have exceedingly clean hair, thank you very much. I don't even want to know what "etc" means here. If my arm itches, and I scratch it through the sleeve of my blouse, where does that put me? At the sink, I'm thinking.)

- After sneezing or coughing into hands or tissue. (Into a tissue? Isn't that why you use a tissue?)

- After handling garbage or trash. (No arguments here, but the "or" confuses me. Are garbage and trash two different things? Because I don't see much difference.)

- Anytime hands are dirty or you have reason to believe they have been in contact with germs. (Boy, that gives the compulsive handwasher free rein, doesn't it? Actually it means, "The remaining two minutes of your day not taken up by handwashing for the other above reasons.")

OK, so now we know when to wash our hands, which is always. Our next tri-fold section tells us, of course, how to wash our hands. It's called, and hold on to your hats, but be sure to wash up afterward, "The Correct Way To Wash Your Hands."

- Activate lever-operated towel dispensers before beginning the handwashing process. (1. So your paper towel can wave there in the breeze of a filthy restroom, and 2. Because apparently these people don't realize it's easy to operate those things with an elbow. Of course, you have to wash your elbow after, but that's OK.)

- Wet your hands with warm water and apply liquid or plain soap. Keep hands pointed downward. (Because God forbid the germs would cling to your upwardly pointed hands. I don't understand this. Of course you're going to point your hands downward when you rinse, and the germs will then slide off. If you point them upward then, you're going to get wet. Remember that.)

- Continue scrubbing for 10-15 seconds. (Hey, I'm not on a time clock when I wash my hands. If I want 7 seconds, fuck you. If I want 48 seconds, fuck you again. But be sure to wash up after.)

- Rinse hands well with warm water. (Because cold water is uncomfortable, and notice they don't care now that you're rinsing that your hands are pointed downward.)

- Dry hands with a paper towel. (I guess if the brochure people knew I use big, thirsty terrycloth hand towels in my house, they'd just die, wouldn't they?)

- Use the paper towel to turn the water off and to open the door. (This is just creepy, and though I've used paper towels to flush a public toilet, the day I turn the water off and open the door with a towel is the day I - well, I guess the day I'm in an interstate gas station bathroom, which I'd rather pee my pants than enter.)

All right, people, we know when (always), we know how (like a person possessed), so let's go wash! Huh? You're still not sure? Well, not to worry your pretty little (dirty) heads, friends, because the last tri-fold has some helpful hints. I know this to be true because it's titled, "Helpful Hints."

And it's actually a lie, because there's only one hint to speak of. But it is by-God helpful, if you ask me. And here it is:

- Determining the 10-15 second time period for scrubbing hands:

Try singing the "Happy Birthday Song" - or the song below:

(Sung to the tune of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat)
Wash, wash, wash your hands,
Wash them well today,
Soap and water does the trick
It keeps the germs away!

(Second verse, different from the first!) (That's not in the brochure, that's me.)

Wash, wash, wash your hands
Wash them day and night
Scrub with soap and water too
And illness it will fight!

Yep, it actually has two different verses.

Pardon me, but if I'm in a public bathroom having a nice quiet moment in the stall, and I hear someone outside singing either "Happy Birthday" or "Wash, Wash, Wash Your Hands," I'm screaming, "9-1-1!"

The final Helpful Hint is this one.

- Remember to keep your hands away from your face! (yes! an exclamation point!) (!) Think of all the objects you touch everyday that have been touched by someone who is not a good handwasher.

And that, my fine feathereds, is just spreading mass panic and hysteria amongst our general population. We're in the Obama Era, for God's sake, the era of togetherness! You're pulling us all apart! (!, again, but that was me.) (!)

Anyway, my sister used to teach elementary school, and I will never forget her major words of wisdom on this subject. "The dirtiest, grimiest, stinkiest kids, the kids with dirty faces who smelled like little chickens, never missed a day of school. Perfect attendance. Never even had a cold."

So pardon me while I toss this in the wastebasket. And I'm not washing my hands afterwards, either.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Wishing everyone a nice Thanksgiving holiday. If you're traveling, be safe. If you're drinking, don't drive. If you're with family or friends, enjoy them. And if you have extra to spare, drop something by your local food bank.