When the coronapocalypse is over, I’m never washing my hands again
I miss my dirty fingers.
I’ve washed them so many thousands of times the last few days that I have scrubbed off every loop and whorl of my fingerprints and clogged up every pore with soap.
When will this end?Credit:The Age
And yes, I do mean thousands of times.
This infection control regime is demanding, Jack! Every time I touch my damn face I have to race into the bathroom, elbow the hot water tap on, and lean on the liquid soap plunger and lather up my disgusting germy meathooks again.
Science says most people touch their face about 3000 times a day, so you do the math.
When this is over, I’m never washing my hands again.
If and when I survive the coronapocalypse I’m going to finally peel myself out of my home made biohazard suit (you will need 30 metres of Glad Wrap and a short length of garden hose for a breathing tube) and take a whole month off to just lie around the house touching and stroking my face.
I’m gonna erotically massage every half wet cranial aperture I’ve got and then some. I’m gonna live off sushi and sandwiches and all the foods I can’t have now because they’re made by snuffling underpaid teenagers squeezing uncooked edibles into pleasing shapes to be pushed into the biggest and wettest of my vulnerable head holes.
Basically any foodstuff that I didn’t personally grow in my transparent biohazard suit is just a gigantic petri dish full of Captain Trips so there’s another little life pleasure which has been denied me, thank you very much death bug.
Even the undeniable satisfaction of an apocalypse shop is no fun when everyone is doing it and you can’t even empty the shelves of hand sanitser and toilet rolls before the other irresponsible psychos.
I bought 50 kilograms of dry fettuccine last week, but I normally buy 75 and what little I could place within my possession I had to touch with my super sticky flu fingers because there wasn’t enough toilet paper left to wrap that many packets of Barilla.
Seriously. This pandemic will be the death of me.
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