Airborne, Take Me Away!

I am a germaphobe. (Did you know that's not really a word? The correct term is mysophobia - a pathological fear of contamination and germs. ...apparently, I'm also a word nerd...) But I hate germs. I always wash my hands, and I often use hand sanitizer. I never hold on to handrails, and I always use my own pen. You remember that show Monk? Yeah. That kid had nothing on me. Diamonds may be every other girl's best friend, but my best friend is Clorox Wipes. Disinfectants are kinda my thing.
One time, I had a student who needed an idea for a science fair project. I told her it would be awesome if she tested all of the brand label disinfectants to see which was most effective. (We had had a nasty bout of sickness that was making its rounds of the school.) Her conclusion - Clorox Anywhere Hard Surface Cleaner. I bought ten bottles. I DARED the flu bug to show its face in MY classroom!!

But my psychosis has a focus. I don't just hate germs because they're, um, germy...I hate germs because they make people sick. More specifically, they make me sick. I don't like being sick. I hate being sick. I hate having a throat made of steel wool, a brain the consistency of a half-cooked pancake, and a tummy that someone put on "boil" and forgot to turn down.
Therefore, I avoid germs...like...well....like the plague.
It's especially difficult this time of year. The holidays are over, and the flu bug has crawled out from its long winter's nap. Round about January, my students begin dropping like flies, and I go into combat mode. I Clorox everything. I disinfect desks, doorknobs, pencils, books, lockers, everything. Everything students touch, I disinfect. I would disinfect my students if they would let me. (Parents frown on teachers spraying down their children with Clorox, though...pity.) I take Airborne by the gallon, and I offer hand sanitizer to anyone who has the good fortune to sit within a ten-yard radius of me. I tell grown women in the ladies' restroom to wash their hands, and I offer to sing "Happy Birthday" so they'll know how long to wash. (You can also say the alphabet backwards, but I always get lost somewhere around R Q P S T U V...wait...)
But, I suspect they're on to me. The germs. They know. They've infiltrated my defenses. They've got a secret plan. Maybe...they have...spies!! My throat is beginning to feel scratchy... my head is beginning to throb... they're getting a foothold, but I refuse to back down! I'm digging in and staying put. To the mattresses! ...I mean, literally. To the mattresses. ...I'm going to bed ...with a bottle of Airborne ...and Clorox Wipes.