I am fully armed.
At work, there are four different bottles of hand sanitizer at my desk -- two gel-based containers (one is lavender scented and available for use by the public, and they had best use it -- the other is just a purse-sized trial size). There's also a trial-sized bottle of the Lysol Healthy Touch foam, and a sample of a hand sanitizer spray (part of a promotion that I got last night at Walgreen's). I have sugar-free cough drops. I have plenty of Celestial Seasonings tea bags as well as sugar-free spiced cider packs -- and let's NOT forget the many packets of Emergen-C in my purse. Oooh, I nearly forgot the now almost-empty tub of disinfecting wipes on the shelf (note to self: pick up more of those over the weekend).
And at home, I have the two bottles of hand sanitizer in my purse, plenty -- PLENTY, mind you -- of antibacterial soap, more sugar-free cough drops picked up at lunch, several cans of soup plus leftover hot-n-sour soup from this evening .... which I halfway expected to really open me up from whatever is causing this, but hasn't so far .... and OH YEAH, the rock-n-rye picked up this evening from the P Road Party Shop. God bless good ol' Rock-n-Rye. It's cheap whisky but it makes one hell of a medicinal mix.
Why am I so heavily armed? Because I have a scratchy throat.
Now, I am not a nervous Nellie in the least. Nor am I a germophobe along the lines of Adrian Monk. I'm not wiping down every surface the minute people exit my office or leave my general vicinity. But I will be danged if I allow this feeling to bloom into a full-fledged.... whatever. I refuse to let the germs win. Right now, I sound like Marge Simpson. Here's the other part of the equation -- I'm singing Sunday night for Mass. Yep. I practiced a little in the car at lunch. I hit the bass notes better than the higher alto notes that I am accustomed to singing.
It behooves me to take care of myself as much as possible. And so I am, and armed to the teeth.
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