Tuesday, November 3, 2009

We usually celebrate every Tuesday with a different topic, a custom grown more out of my deficient attention span than anything else, but this evening is different. I’m still thinking about pathogens, specifically the avoidance of such, and in doing so I may have become a hypostrongdiac, a variation on the sniffling, WebMD-trolling species you know too well. Rather than embrace and catalog all manners of germs, I’m preoccupied with sidestepping them via homebrew remedies, sheer conviction that I must not get sick, and, of course, social distancing.

On Sunday, for instance, prior to lining up for communion I pored over a blurb in the program about how the bread was both baked and presented by the congregation’s children. This was adorable–I guess?–and truly horrific, once I pictured a band of soot-covered street urchins emerging from the hospital dumpster to prepare the Lord’s supper. Jesus Christ indeed. As I approached the tainted sacraments, eight feet, then six feet, then two, watching as parishioners took and ate, none the wiser, I suddenly veered off and retreated to a pew, relieved beyond measure that I did not partake.

And when I’m not engaged in evasive maneuvers at church, I’m stocking up on sleep. I’ve been catching about six to six-and-a-half hours each night for the past few months, which just hasn’t been cutting it, so I’ve been ponying up for an extra hour or two recently. There are health benefits to this, I’m sure, but really I’ve rediscovered that sleep may be my most favorite thing. Television and video games, viable sources of escapism they may be, simply can’t hold a candle to a cost-effective nap. You shut your eyes, and suddenly you’re two hours into the future. They call that time travel in some circles.