Or wasting time instead of heading out in the chill to run.
I visited my parishioner in ICU today. On the way out the son told me to wash my hands. Now, this is the third or fourth time I've visited. I knew I was supposed to put on gloves to touch him. I thought the concern was our carrying a bug to him. Evidently he has a contagious bug. There is a small orange sign outside the door detailing the precautions. Including things like wearing gowns and taking gowns off outside and then washing hands again. I've had a runny nose since yesterday. So, of course, I know that I have some virulent infection. My temperture is a grand 96.8. Yep, 96.8. So, I'm not running a raging fever. Some might wonder if I'm still alive.
I decided to come home, wash all the clothes I had worn to the hospital to to make sure and take a shower and scrub with Dial soap. (I might add that no one seemed to be putting on a gown to see him. I've been in rooms with patients with communicable diseases and I've done the gown bit. There weren't even gowns around to put on.)
It reminds me of the time I baptized a woman who had died of meningitis. I was relating the story to a woman who worked at the hospital. She was convinced that I would come down with meningitis because I had breathed the air that the woman had exhaled. Evidently the kind of meningitis the woman had was airborne. I was worried for days that I would die of meningitis.