Pity Party for one...or why I am the dirtiest person you know

I am throwing a pity party for myself. You don’t need to know why, just know that I am here, pouting in my cube, and there is really nothing you can do or say to make me feel better, I just have to get over it. Which generally takes a while and at least 3 warm baths and 2 good books and 10+ hours of GOOD television.
But! Never fear. Those of you who know me well know that when I am in pity party funk mode-I tend to write fun angry ranty blogs.
So for your enjoyment, here is my blog-that I clearly wrote with a large dark stormy cloud over my head.
I have a confession. I do not wash my hands in the bathroom. I just don’t. You can’t make me, you can’t change me, I have a mother and a friend who is going to be a doctor and a resident germ-a-phobe in my life. They have not yet convinced me-you won’t win either, just be disgusted and keep reading.
I have a reason! I have a reason. I don’t know where the disconnect was from my parents teaching me to wash my hands after going the bathroom. I asked my mother-she says she did, even though I have no active memory of my mom going-“okay now wash your hands” even though I have seen her do this multiple times with other people’s kids. So it’s obvious she did her job, but somewhere along the way, I just fell off the wagon. At some point I went, nah I don’t want to wash my hands-I’m good.
But I have found some rationalization in it all. I suspect somewhere along the way the “hurry up and go” command from my parents on car trips led me to skip that part so I could run back to the car and resume the long car drive and resume my ultimate battle of "JESSE TOUCHED ME HE'S CROSSING THE LINNEEEEE". And also my immense claustrophobia of bathroom stalls in general doesn’t help. Ask any of the people who lived with me in college. I never shut the bathroom stall door. Not once. I’ve carried on entire conversations with people while sitting on the toilet. If I have an option, and it’s a bathroom I regularly go in, and I know the people who might cruise by, I’m not shutting the door.
A common joke at my parents house when I go into the bathroom is:
*people from the dining room: “Carrie can you hear us”
*me from the bathroom*: “Yes”.
*people from the dining room*: "Yeah-we can hear you too-good stream"

But like I said before-I have rationality, which last night, Seth informed me that I have the most irrational quirks of anyone he’s ever met. I tried to defend myself-No! No! I have rationality! *Verbalizes many examples of rationalities* and he said-nope those are just irrational explanations of your irrationality. He was obviously doing math in his head while I was talking.
Anyway here is my new excuse for not washing my hands. When I go into a bathroom-I only touch me. And they are my germs. I know them, we are friends, we all exist harmoniously on this pretty little thing God calls “me”. I don’t touch anything that isn’t “me” with my hands. I kick the toilet handle to flush. I kick the door open. And I’m not about to go over to that other people germy sink and pretend think I’m being clean-they give out free hand sanitizer for that.
A lot of times, for the sake of social acceptance, and also because NPP hangs big fat WASH YOUR HANDS signs, I fake was my hands or am forced too if people are in the bathroom with me, like waits you out dump lady or the person who talks on their phone in a public bathroom. Or if someone recognizes your shoes or goes in with you that you know is there and they would totally call you out on your not hand washing and you would be forced to explain in long prose paragraphs but still never be fully understood. So sometimes, I wash or fake wash. Fake washing involves getting a paper towel from the basket holder and turning on a faucet for the required number of seconds and then turning it off and leaving.
But today-today I’m having a pity party-so I don’t care. And I totally just karate kicked my toilet handle flushed and elbow bumped my door open and sauntered out of a full bathroom full of people I know. I DARE them to come ask my why I don’t wash my hands. One of them might never go into a bathroom with me again. Really.
There lies my pity party blog.
Hopefully I will be de-funked tomorrow!
Love to you all!
Carrie