Sign of the Times

This morning, my workplace taped signs explaining how employees should wash their hands to the mirrors in our bathrooms.

Under ordinary circumstances, this might have seemed condescending--even though, much as it pains me to admit it, an alarming number of the men in the office need reminders to wash their hands after using the bathroom, no matter what they're doing in the bathroom.

A coworker (not at my current workplace, thank goodness) once said that he didn't think he needed to wash his hands if he weren't "going number two."

Dude. Seriously.

Not to dumb it down too much, but urine is wastewater. The human body expels it because, well, if it didn't you would die. So unless you're passing Perrier through that thing? You need to wash your hands. Yes, every time.

The signs put up today, though, were not addressing the cleanliness (or lack thereof) of our male employees. It was designed to protect everyone, to some degree, from the Swine Flu, which, as of this morning, had officially spread to Chicago--a North Side elementary school with at least one infected student has been closed for at least the next couple.

Honestly? I'm not that worried about myself. I wash my hands regularly, cover my mouth when I sneeze and cough and have managed to dodge the flu for much of this past season.

My mom? She's 70. And works in a drug store.

Color me worried.