stop touching your face, dave

I may have unwittingly began a chain of events that will result in something similar to the movie Contagion. (I didn't see it, because come on, as if there's one more thing I should be worried about; however, I'm familiar with the premise.)

But first, I must go farther back. Over recent months, I find myself slightly addicted to shopping at Value Village. My reasoning is twofold: I like having new clothes, and I don't like paying full price for stuff. Anyway, I was made aware of the fact that I might be a bit out of control when, on my last trip to Value Village, I dropped off some clothing from a recent trip to a different Value Village because once I brought it home and washed it I realized I didn't like it after all. Also I go to more than one. I don't think that's normal.

So I was in Value Village this afternoon, trying on a beautiful jacket from Smart Set that only cost $15! One of my requirements for a coat is that it have side pockets I can put my hands in, not just decorative front pockets. You'd be surprised at how many coats lack functional side pockets. I was disappointed by the fact that this was one of those lacking the pockets, but the coat was so pretty that I stuck my hands in the decorative front pockets to see if I could make it work.

I immediately regretted that decision, as my hand instantly emerged again, horrifyingly clasping a crumpled kleenex. As soon as I registered what my hand was doing, I dropped the kleenex on the ground, berating said hand for clasping it in the first place. After a few moments of disgusted shudders, I composed myself with the following instructions: Simply do not touch face with hand that has touched kleenex. No need to panic.

But then you guys, as I emerged from the change room, holding the jacket because I loved it despite the lack of side pockets/surprise used kleenex, my nose itched. As a reflex, despite the conversation I'd had with myself literally moments earlier, I SCRATCHED MY NOSE. WITH THE KLEENEX HAND.

Well, crap, I thought to myself. Now I'm going to die.

Because who KNOWS what was on the kleenex? It was crumpled, thereby assuring me that it wasn't a fresh kleenex. What could it have been used for?

Best Case Scenario:
- tears
- crumpled in anger but never used
- blotting up a water spill
- someone's phone number (I never checked!)
- a genius Math formula that was worth a million dollars and would solve the energy crisis (I NEVER CHECKED!)

Worst Case Scenario:
- contained the coughs of someone with a communicable disease
- harbinger of a new plague

So presently I feel fine, but pay attention to the news in case I die suddenly. Then you, reader, must take it upon yourself to report to the authorities that the origin of a new plague is in the third change room at the Value Village in Newton. Obviously I can't warn them now, because I would sound crazy.