I�m so glad I�m no longer a germaphobe.

I�ve been working on painting my bathroom and resealing around the tub. As one might expect, I got my hands dirty. Some of the stuff isn�t immediately coming off with soap/makeup remover/nail polish remover. I know there are no germs in the stuff on my hands, but five or six years ago, I�d have been soaking my hands in bleach and scrubbing my fingerprints off.

Can you believe that I actually was an art major? My hands used to always be painfully cracked and dry.

Most stuff that leaves a mark on you is not ridden with parasites, but it�s a chemical of some kind. I didn�t like that, either.

The few people who knew me well enough would tell me that I was an obsessive compulsive hand washer. I figured, there�s nothing wrong with wanting to be clean, right?

Probably not, I don�t know. I do know that now I am capable of letting things that won�t come off immediately wear off over time, and that�s a lot more comfortable than scraping off your skin.

Previously, I don�t think I�d have ever been able to make a habit of setting foot in NJ. If I went there, I�m sure I wouldn�t have touched anything. There�s something about that state that makes me feel like there�s more germs there.

As a matter of fact, I think moving to the east coast has been a big help with getting over my germaphobia, in general.

The thing that really did it, though, was Neil taking me out into the woods for a few days. I wasn�t sure that I would be able to handle it, and I underestimated how dirty the outdoors really is.

Miles from any running water, I had no choice but to drink lake water (boiled, in Canada, where the water was declared safe to drink. I�m not insane). So, I went out there and got really, really dirty, and had no choice but to live with the fact that I was really, really dirty. I didn�t die. The cooties didn�t take over and carry me away.

I didn�t get sick. As a matter of fact, I came back feeling better.

Now, whenever someone touches me or my things, I don�t frantically worry about the last time that person washed their hands.

I can go to a movie theatre and diner in NJ and not even bring a bottle of purell. The hand soap in their washrooms is good enough now.

Thank God, because one redeeming quality of NJ is the diners. Last night, Tony and I decided to meet halfway between NYC and Philly and see a movie. We went to see The Simpsons, which I found surprisingly good. That�s a show I used to watch, many years ago, when I watched TV.

Afterwards, we went to the nearest diner, which was only about � of a mile away, but because it�s NJ, it took me 30 minutes to get there.

Twenty minutes to get out of the parking lot (at midnight in the pouring rain) and then two U-turns to get where I needed to be (this isn�t my mistake, this is what they call city planning).

I haven�t totally figured out NJ, but I�m improving. Sometimes I actually find my destination on the first try now.

Anyway, I�ve grown a real appreciation for the diners. They aren�t even like what the rest of the country calls a diner. They�re a species of their own.

I don�t often go, but when I do, I love going. Typically, I study the menu, marveling at the number of options and noting the interesting items.

My na�ve commentaries are things like, �In what kind of restaurant can you actually see JELL-O on the menu?� and �Who knew feta cheese was a side dish? If I order that, will I get a pile of feta on a plate?�

Tony�s deadpan responses were, �In any diner between New York and Philly� and �Yes, I�m sure that�s exactly what you�d get.�

Of course, it was 1AM by this point. I think that�s probably the best time to go to a diner, sometime after 1AM.

I had the NY style veggie burger with coleslaw and a pickle, and then I had some green tea and part of a giant cookie.

I�m going back to NJ tomorrow, so I can go surfing. This means I have to get up too early tomorrow, drag out my 3MM wetsuit, hope it escaped being chewed to bits by Dylan, eat, coat myself in waterproof sunblock, pack my stuff and go.

I may end up missing meditation tomorrow night, but I hope not. This week, I think someone may need to chain me to my laptop to force me to stop slacking off and get my work done.

I didn�t get to bed until after 4 last night, and I woke up early today. That might be why I sound so funny now.

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Saturday, Jul. 28, 2007 at 10:06 PM