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Wash Your Fucking Hands

Wash Your Fucking Hands

As I lied peacefully in my bed last night, dreaming completely innocent dreams that my mother would definitely not consider indecent, I awoke suddenly. I sat up in bed and felt a little tickle in my throat. I let out a cough, mostly just to clear my throat, but it didn’t go away. A few more coughs put me at ease—that’s not to say that the tickle turned scratch had gone away, but I felt like I had made an effort to remedy the situation and therefore could go back to sleep feeling accomplished.

Fast forward a few hours. It’s 6:30 a.m. My alarm is going off. I sit up in bed feeling like I can barely breathe, let alone speak. I chugged a glass of water, threw back some DayQuil, and took a warm shower but nothing helped.

This is it. This is Stage 1 of me getting sick. Which brings me to the title of this column.


Wash your fucking hands.

Seriously. Wash them. This doesn’t seem like too outlandish of a request to me, and yet people fail to do it. Want to know how many times I’ve gone to take a leak in the office and saw one of my colleagues, someone I respect the opinions of, flush the toilet and exit the fucking bathroom like a god damn barbarian? Too many to count. Got any ideas of how many emails we’ve had to send around my office reminding people to wash their hands before they eat? I just filtered them. There have been 12…in the last 5 weeks.

It doesn’t stop, there. Even my own roommate (sorry E, I know you read these), is deathly ill right now. Okay, she’s not dying, but it certainly sounds like she is the way her nose is stuffed up and she can barely talk because she’s either coughing or in pain. The walls are thin, and I know there are times when she goes to the bathroom and does that bullshit thing where you run your hands under some lukewarm water in a half-assed attempt to seem like you’re conscious of germs.

I’m not OCD and I’m not a germophobe. Not by any means. One time, I had a bagel with cream cheese fall cheese-side-down on the carpet and I still took a bite out of it. What was I going to do, let it go to waste? All I’m asking is to be conscious of yourself and those around you. As a firm believer in the Zombie Apocalypse, all it takes is one person plunging their hand into a bag of pretzels after taking a giant dump without washing their hands to send us collectively as a society into a giant frenzy that culminates with someone getting their skull bashed in with a baseball bat.

So here’s my call to action: tell your friends, tell your parents, tell your coworkers, brothers, sisters, neighbors, whoever. Tell them to wash their hands. Tell them that it’s cold and flu season and that we don’t want that shit spreading around the office. And finally, tell them that if you do, in fact, catch them going to the bathroom and not washing their hands, you will call them out in a public forum and humiliate them. Because lord knows, that’s what I’m going to do.

Wash your fucking hands.

Image via Shutterstock

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Charlie

At any given moment I'm either tired, drunk, or stressed out. Hobbies include complaining, gentrifying things, and complaining about things getting gentrified. Get at me at charliepgp@gmail.com or whatever.

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