Day two of no running water. We are waiting on the county to fix it. It could take a while. I am not focusing on the inconvenience - drinking, cooking, washing dishes, flushing the toilet, bathing, a messy toddler - my mind has zeroed in on the real problem: I can't wash my hands.
The ritual is not the same. I always wash, use hand sanitizer, wash again, use the hand sanitizer again...for as long as I need to, depending on the anxiety of that day. For as often as I need to, depending on the anxiety of that day. It's a set plan; to veer off is to risk contamination, sin, death. That's just the way it works. I've come to accept it. I've come to accept the laughs, the stares, the questions. As long as it works, it's okay. I just wash as much and as long as I need to.
But not yesterday. Not today. Perhaps not for several more days.
Makeshift handwashings are not the same. I stuck my hands in partially boiling water this morning but it's just not the right ritual. Baby wipes, more hand sanitizer. It still doesn't feel right.
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