The elements are not my friend. And after events this week, I’m forced to conclude that nature, in general, has it in for me.
The wind can be a powerful enemy of mine, and it didn’t disappoint me in this latest instance. It seems that the wind likes to whip up whenever I need to do some shopping. This becomes a problem when I am trying to move the groceries from the shopping cart to my car. Things are blowing around and landing where they shouldn’t, and my germophobic soul needs everything to be in its place. I used a plastic sandwich baggie to open the trunk of the car, and, although I go through an ungodly amount of OCD supplies, I do try to save and reuse what I can. Therefore, I wedged the baggie between some boxes in the trunk so that I could reuse it to close the trunk when I was done with the groceries. I took a couple of items from the cart and placed them in the boxes in the trunk. All was well. I turned back to the cart to get the remaining items, and I felt something hit my hand. A gust of wind had blown something into my hand. But what? The object had been whisked away as quickly as it had touched me. I looked around and I saw that the spot where the baggie had been was empty. The wind got me again! Great. I was going to be spraying my hand and arm with rubbing alcohol on my drive back to the office, and it would continue after I got back to my desk. And, until I could get sufficiently clean, I had to be careful that no cross-contamination took place.
I had this on my mind as I pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car. I couldn’t wait to get to my desk and get the rest of the filth off my hand and arm. I was a few steps from the office door, when I heard a loud buzzing sound. Again, I didn’t see the enemy, but I was certain it had to be a large insect, perhaps a dragonfly. And an enemy it was. I barely had time to wonder what I was hearing, when there was a splat on my face. And not just on my face, but on my lips! They felt wet, and so did my chin and my collarbone. What was that?! I didn’t want to think about it too much, but I did expect to see something on my face when I looked in the mirror. To my surprise, there was nothing visible. But I felt the bug goo on my face and body, and it had to be cleaned off.
Here’s where the OCD gets really fun. I couldn’t begin removing the bug goo until I finished cleaning my contaminated hand and wrist. What did I do to nature to deserve all of this in one day? But I didn’t have time to muse on the subject. I needed to clean my hand so I could get off the bug goo before my skin absorbed it. A series of sprays and wipes ensued; then the hand was clean enough. I took out my package of wet wipes to start in on the lips. This was extra-bad contamination, so I cleaned my lips more than I typically would. I made twelve passes with the wet wipes, but I felt that they still needed more. I turned to the rubbing alcohol. I poured a little on a napkin and wiped my lips with it. It stung, but that’s what we endure for cleanliness. Then I wiped it off with water to soothe my lips and get off any chemical residue. What an ordeal.
I’m a nature lover at heart. I love trees and flowers and birds. I’m not fond of insects, but who doesn’t like a ladybug or a butterfly? Nature is making it difficult for me, though.
