I’m not really a germ-o-phobe. Much.
But I’m rather pleased to be the one person in this household who has not been sick with respiratory crud over the holidays. That includes all our houseguests, friends of our kids who have been parading in and out every day and night for two weeks. Every single person passing through our doors has joined in a symphony of hacking and coughing that rivals anything Beethoven or even Mozart could have composed. So far I have not added my own chorus.
But my defenses are being pushed to their limits. With the constant coming and going of guests and visitors, insidious germs are lurking in every room. I can’t leave a glass of water sitting out for any length of time for fear some sneezer will mistake it for theirs and take a swig. The position of my hand towel in the bathroom changes with each new overnight guest, and I’m quite certain OTHER PEOPLE have wiped their germy hands on my virus-free towel.
But the last straw? I found THIS in my toothbrush drawer last night:
That is NOT my toothbrush.
Excuse me while I go suck on a zinc tablet, douse myself in hand sanitizer, and guzzle a gallon of Emergen-C.