Purell: Humanitarian Relief

So, for those who know me well this is not news. For everyone else, it may seem odd. I have this obsession. An obsession to have clean hands. Always had it. Even as a child. Ask my mom. Dirty hands, in general, creep me out. My own hands being dirty is like mental battery acid. This makes the bathroom situation in Bulgaria thrice as bad as it otherwise would be - and it's pretty damn bad. Let's just talk about "public" work restrooms today, though there are so many more bathroom rants to be given. There are keys - yes, often more than one - needed to get into a bathroom in many locations. Work environments are especially bad about it. Apparently, people believe that someone is going to enter the building only to do something destructive to the bathroom. Let's see what that would be.... Steal toilet paper? Nope, none to be had. To pee on the floor? Well, the toilet usually leaks so that's taken care of. I have no clue what the keys are for. But you need them. In the municipality, I need THREE. One to get to the hallway that reeks of urine. One to get to the restroom area. One to lock myself into the toilet room. THREE. So, once in the room with the leaky toilet that soaks the floor, there is no toilet paper (but most gals are prepared for this - most). Conveniently, there is a torn old newspaper that people seem to use in a bind (or when things aren't so binding, I guess) ...So, you do your business and then you flush and then...TOUCH THE KEYS. Go to the sink, wash without soap and with nothing to dry your hands and then TOUCH THE KEYS. Lock the bathroom back with THE KEYS. So, put these things together, if you will: my loathing of dirty hands and picking up a dripping wet bathroom key ring that someone else just used (oh yeah, 5 of us share these keys - why wouldn't we?!) You can partially imagine my disgust. Grossness! Deep thoughts, by Jen Hill.