It turns out that I have a disease. I know, I know. I’m Guatemalan and supposed to be perfect, but it isn’t so. One night, I couldn’t sleep. Love making didn’t help. A glass of warm milk didn’t help. I even watched Fox News for a bit. I couldn’t fall asleep.
So, I went to the computer to see if I could maybe read myself to sleep. Little did I know that something I did so often was actually a disorder. Si, this Latino suffers from ablutomania.
I was brought up in a very clean household. Touched the counter? Wash your hands. Brushing your teeth? Wash your hands. Use the bathroom? Wash your hands. Eating fruit? Wash the fruit. Changing a diaper? Wash your hands. Cleaning up after the dog? Wash your hands. Cooking food? Wash your hands.
I’m not sure what mi madre did to me, but she raised a family who was clean. Is this bad? Do I have a such a desire to be clean that it borders on a compulsion?
I’ve been to clubs in DC and have seen men walk in and walk out without even glancing at the sink. I’ve seen a guy fix his hair while his hand still glistened from his waste. I’ve even seen men come out of stalls after giving the restroom a flatulent concert and walk right out. Hell, no H20 is what they must believe, but Dios mio! Come on! Wash those hands. It makes the hairs on my arm stand up with the thought.
Miguel once chased a guy out of club restroom to ask him why he didn’t wash his hands.
“Mind your own business dickhead.”
Miguel let this get under his skin and under normal circumstances I would have calmed him down, but not with this. I abhor this act with all my heart and soul. I did nothing to calm him down. In fact, I egged him on a little bit. Why not? I don’t remember exactly what I said to him, but he went looking for this guy and found him talking to a group of women.
“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt. Your amigo here was just in the restroom with me and I wanted to let you know that he didn’t wash his hands. He told me to mind my own business dickhead when I asked him about it.”
“Ewwwww Terry! That’s sick!”
“He’s messing around. I washed my hands.”
“No, Terry. You didn’t wash your Armani Exchange hands. I was watching you the entire time. Good luck with the ladies!”
Take care indeed. The two thumbs up he gave him at the end was priceless.
So you know what? I’m glad I have this disorder. I think it’s the best disorder one could have. I wash my hands too much. So what? Terry… Ay, what a name for a non hand washer Armani Exchange gringo…