Hand-Washing Anxiety Disorder

*A real sign, in a real public restroom. in a real grocery store.

I am writing this note to thank the corporate decision-making gurus behind this sign (see above), for posting specific step-by-step instructions on proper hand-washing procedures. Now, customers like me, who suffer from Hand-Washing Anxiety Disorder (H.A.D.) can rest easy  knowing that the dreaded fear of washing one’s hands after doing one’s business is something we don’t have to worry about anymore!!

 I mean, golly gee- I don’t know what I would have done, had your sign not provided me with a “hand-washing cheat sheet” posted right next to the sink. I almost feel like I was back in 10th grade biology class when borrowing my classmate’s notes to complete my homework. 

Now I admit, I need it for multiple reasons. For starters, sometimes I can’t remember whether to begin with warm or cold water. That decision can be a real mind f*** on its own. But that alone is just the beginning of the post-flush hand-washing pressure I have to contend with. Sometimes I only rub my hands for 5-10 seconds, which completely throws off the timing and I have to start all over again. And without my meds, #4 on the list is definitely a problem! When I’m standing over the sink and rubbing my hands back and forth, I have the tendency to drift off and not pay attention. I often dream about glorious deeds… like replacing Babe Ruth in the lineup, then hitting a grand slam off Roger Clemens in the ninth inning of Game 7 during the World Series. 

(Fade in a sports announcer’s voice)…

 Now batting in place of Babe Ruth… Walter Mitty Jr. … He steps up to the plate… here’s the pitch by Clemens… and that’s a well-hit ball!… It’s going back… back, back, back… IT’S GONE! 

It gets worse. One day I just used my dress slacks to wipe my hands dry. I mean it’s cloth, like a towel… right? It’s so easy to get confused. The bad thing is, when I do remember to use paper towels to dry my hands, I sometimes stuff them in my pockets. It isn’t until I get all the way to my car before I remember, the paper towels had to be disposed of in the bathroom trash container. So frustrating! This requires me to walk all the way back inside, under the suspicious glares of the store employees, re-enter the bathroom and unload my goods – as if I was a thief… or a complete idiot.

 All in all, it has been a total cluster-f*** of a hand-washing experience ever since Mom gave me the reigns and told me to fly solo.

But thanks to corporate subjugation, government overreach, and frivolous lawsuits – all working hard in conjunction to grease their own wheels; setting out to create a society of blind obedience, deep-seeded division, as well as the fear of retribution…

… but at least I don’t have to worry about H.A.D. ever again!

Thank you, so much!

Johnny Dumba**

P.S. Please consider posting signs in all bathroom stalls across this great nation, showcasing the proper steps for taking a #2. I sometimes forget the wipe part 🙁 

Think dammit – think! What step is next? … S*** I can’t remember! …Come on, come onnnnn, concentrate!… “Now batting. for Babe Ruth…”

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