Dirty Hands

I have always known that I have issues. Particularly with being smelly and dirty. Just ask anyone that knows me well, and I’m constantly making sure I don’t smell, and I’m not dirty. I especially detest smelly, dirty hands and fingernails. Ick.  That is just disgusting and nasty. 

When I was a teenager, I worked at a local amusement park and my job was handling then money.  I was constantly washing my hands because if you could see where people pulled there money from, you would wash your hands, too.  Because HOLY GROSS MONEY, BATMAN! They pulled it out of crevices I never knew you could stick money.

Seriously nasty gross.

My Mom was convinced  I was trying to hide something -- a la Macbeth's "Out, damned spot! Out I say!"
Or, that I was OCD.

In reality I was just completely grossed out with having to take people’s money when they pulled it out of their bras, panties (really) or their sweaty socks.

For Real's.

A while back My furnace wasn’t working, and I had to have someone come out and fix it. The repair man they sent to fix my furnace was a super nice guy. That is until he stuck out his hand to shake. He had the dirtiest hands I have ever seen in my entire life.

Bar. None.

And, he smelled.

Double Whammy!

His hands looked like they he had been working on several hundred cars, and he smelled like he had been lifting those cars and then he came to work on my furnace.

He had to put his dirty hands on my wall to try and figure out what was wrong with the thermostat—and everywhere he touched was black. Not just black but B-L-A-C-K black.

It was all I could do to keep myself from not jumping up and down screaming "Wash your hands! Here's some soap! For the love of all things holy WASH YOUR HANDS!"

My inner Monica was a raving lunatic and she was getting harder and harder to keep at bay.

I kept trying to come up with politically correct ways of saying he should wash his hands:

"Would you like something to eat? Here, wash your hands and I'll feed you something."

Not P.C.

"Here, wash your hands so you can get some dinner on the way home tonight."

(I may have actually said that one).

"You're getting my house filthy with those dirty hands, will you go wash them?"

Nope.

"Wash your flipping’ hands before I wash them for you."

Uh. No.

So, I fidgeted and squirmed and sort of died a slow painful, dirty, smelly death while he was  touching my walls. Getting the blacker and blacker  WITH HIS FILTHY DIRTY HANDS!

Please people for the love of all things clean: Wash your hands when you come to see me!