Amateur Hour.

Bears: Still a thing.

It's shocking how bad normal people are at being germaphobes. I swear, you're a bunch of amateurs, spraying all of your groceries with bleach and  your mail with Lysol, leaving it all out on your back deck for three days before consuming (these are actually things I've seen and I have been trying *not* to read the crazy stuff because I don't want to trigger my OCD.) Have you forgotten that bleach is not for human consumption and when you spray it into that absorbent box of cookies you are going to eat soggy, bleachy mouthfuls of yuck? That Lysol is a liquid made up of solvents (it's right there in the name for cripes sake.) dampening the paper, lifting the ink, rendering your mail unreadable? (Any Good Girls fan could have clued you in, if you asked.) And just because there's a new guy in town doesn't mean you forget about all the other microbes that can kill you. Someone was throwing around e.coli's name like it was nothing compared to covid 19. What? E.coli is still hanging around *waiting to kill you*. Don't forget how deadly that m.f. can be. You don't stop running from Freddie Krueger just because Jason's got his hockey mask out. And while we're on this, leaving your food outside...have you forgotten about actual bugs? Raccoons? Bears/packs of coyotes (depending on where you live)? Talk about not seeing the forest for the cougar eating your eyeballs.

 It's like you normals can't pay attention to two things at once. With the endless loops playing in my head 24/7--keeping a log of everything I've touched between handwashes, the neverending Mexican Hat Dance reel that's played over and over and over for the last 20 years, the echo of whatever words someone said to me last "I don't have to go to the post office at all because I have a global stamp in the car and these are plain letters." (in this case, the words Scott said just before he left to get groceries an hour or so ago), and a running list of the next three things I have to do. If you're around me long enough you will hear this list slip out sometimes. OCD is kissing cousins with Tourettes. I blurt out stuff I didn't mean to all the time. Usually, in my case, it's just, "Laundry, gotta write, get in the shower" or something like that, but it can lean toward the truly embarrassing at times. (You'll have to trust me and keep reading this blog for an example. I try to only reveal so many dorky things I do in one day, so as not to frighten the villagers.) I have to pay attention to all of that *and* whatever stimulus is being thrown at me in real life. I have a very busy brain. What are you doing with yours that you can't watch one virus without also keeping up with the millions of others crawling on your eyelashes right now? Seriously. You people are amateurs. Go back to paranoia school and call me when you can juggle the looming concept of airborne hepatitis vs. parvo that jumps species due to all the horrific things that go on in puppy mills in this country every day. These are the things I worry about. Go back to kindergarten. I gotta work on my thesis.