Okay, can I just say ewww?
I am not the Howard Hughes of my neighborhood: I shake hands and no one has to wear scrubs and latex to step through my door. But I am becoming less patient with other people’s ick. We were in a doctor’s waiting room the other day with a woman who proudly announced to the receptionist that she was pretty sure she had pneumonia (and she had the cough to back it up), but she had come anyway because it was so hard to get an appointment these days. Everyone else in the room spent the next 15 minutes trying to hold their breath. Why didn’t the receptionist send her home? I have no idea.
I am turning into a curmudgeon. I think things like Turn down your music! and Cover your mouth!, and I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before I have my very own You kids get off my lawn! Clint-Eastwood-movie-moment. Is it possible to be more generally accepting of the fact that we’re all human at the same time as being less tolerant of the particulars? Because that’s where I think I am…
Ewww is right! That is disgusting. I’ve read stuff before about how nasty movie theatre seats are, but i’m not putting my face down in the seat. Now I know to take some disinfectant with me.
Maybe since we’re all only human and all have to learn to be considerate of others, it gives us more right to complain when others encroach on our patch of earth in one way or another? But come to think of it, I don’t think I’m one to be complaining about other people’s bad behavior right now….
I just finished 409-ing the remote that came with my new used TV from the ARC (reasonably large screen, great picture, $49, awesome bargain). I’m not terribly germ-phobic, but you’d think that people would clean things before donating them . . .
We’ve started wearing the little ear-loop masks that waiting rooms have at the desk. We had a great immune system for a few years but whatever we caught in late February triggered an Epstein-Barr flare and that always makes us more susceptible to crap.
We have noticed as we get older that we sweat the small stuff a lot less, but we also have a lower tolerance for other people’s BS. Maybe it’s a related condition . . .
Hey Zack, yes, I think it’s related. For a long time in My Youth (which is assuming the kind of misty historical distance that requires Victorian capitals) I couldn’t really differentiate between small stuff and bullshit, and so I thought that to be fair and good and blah blah blah that I had to let it all slide. But I’ve generated enough bullshit of my own at this point in life to realize that there’s a difference (grin).