Germophobic? That word would previously never been used to describe me. But now, things might be changing just a bit. It started about two weeks ago when Littlest spent her birthday on my couch running a fever and unable to eat. No, maybe it actually started two days before that when I saw the Duke looking like someone had beat him mercilessly with his own lacrosse stick.
Last week for the first time I refused a handshake by explaining to the kind person with the outstretched hand that she probably didn't want to risk catching my cooties. She didn't and then thanked me. Later that day as I boarded a germ-infested airplane I also did the same thing to a seat-mate who offered his hand. He seemed surprised but also nodded approval.
My right elbow has in the past caused me great pain with a nice scar to prove it. Hopefully it will become more useful now as I learn to offer it in greeting instead of my hand. Don't be offended, be grateful I'm keeping my cooties to myself. And by the way, yours cooties probably aren't any better than mine.
And no, I'm not germophobic. I just ate an unwashed apple. After I coughed on it.