What happens when an 8 year old moves from a small house with tile floors to an enormous one with wall-to-wall carpeting? He develops acute dust allergies. So much so that he cannot remember NOT having a cold for more than 4 years.
God! those horrible days. A cavalcade of wheezing, a nose that arbitrarily leaked or blocked itself, agonizing steaming sessions and of course, the greasy fucking shit that is Vicks Vaporub. All these torments combined to wreck my nose completely. A deviated septum thanks to the incessant, beseeching blowing into the basin. An absolutely confused hormonal reaction to the steaming and vaporub periodically leaving my skin so oily, the U.S still considers invading. Not to mention a lifelong loathing for Vicks. And, an addiction to handkerchiefs.
Consider the handkerchief. I'd never used one before we moved to the UAE. After we did though, I could not go anywhere without one. A simple, 10x10 square cloth made of cotton that I folded and tucked into the pocket of trousers or shorts. I'd always thought of them as something gallant gents offered to their comely companions when in a spot of bother (the ladies, not the dudes). It made absolutely no sense to blow my nose enthusiastically into the handkerchief and put it back into my pocket. It still doesn't. Yet, this simple sartorial element has become my constant companion. And, disgusting or not, I have to admit it was handy as hell. After all, who has the wherewithal to carry around a million tissues (which, given the state of my cold, I most certainly would have needed) and dispose of them like a shower of diseased confetti?
I'll say this without shame - I can't leave home without the comforting bulk of a handkerchief in my pocket. I feel naked without one. To the point where, if I have forgotten my handkerchief and cannot actually return home, my day is completely off-kilter.
Anyway, what's this all about? Bombay is one city where carrying handkerchiefs should be required by law. Especially on trains where a variety of gents masticate enthusiastically on greasy victuals and then, egads, coolly grasp the handrails, the same handrails that another guy whose guttural, Black Lung-like coughing/sneezing, unimpeded by anything but his goddamn hands, just held on to a minute ago. I could go on, but I'd like to keep my readership. So, suffice to say, there's a jolly pathogen party happening all around us, all the time and our simplest line of defense, the humble handkerchief, could easily alleviate the horrors if only every man, woman and child were ordered to carry one. Honestly, what stops people from just tucking one into their bags, pockets or what-have-you, I do not know, especially when the very same turd-buckets will whip out not one but two phones and proceed to conduct their business, oblivious to the world while occasionally spraying their immediate neighbours with a gentle yet generous shower of fine snot.
I mean, if nothing else, the handkerchief is a handy tool to dust a seat, wipe water (or worse) off a surface, dry hands, tie a tourniquet (try that with tissue, morons), use as a quick umbrella or sunhat, and so on. Handkerchiefs make the world a better place. It's time people wrapped their heads around that.
Song for the moment: Both Sides Now - Joni Mitchell
God! those horrible days. A cavalcade of wheezing, a nose that arbitrarily leaked or blocked itself, agonizing steaming sessions and of course, the greasy fucking shit that is Vicks Vaporub. All these torments combined to wreck my nose completely. A deviated septum thanks to the incessant, beseeching blowing into the basin. An absolutely confused hormonal reaction to the steaming and vaporub periodically leaving my skin so oily, the U.S still considers invading. Not to mention a lifelong loathing for Vicks. And, an addiction to handkerchiefs.
Consider the handkerchief. I'd never used one before we moved to the UAE. After we did though, I could not go anywhere without one. A simple, 10x10 square cloth made of cotton that I folded and tucked into the pocket of trousers or shorts. I'd always thought of them as something gallant gents offered to their comely companions when in a spot of bother (the ladies, not the dudes). It made absolutely no sense to blow my nose enthusiastically into the handkerchief and put it back into my pocket. It still doesn't. Yet, this simple sartorial element has become my constant companion. And, disgusting or not, I have to admit it was handy as hell. After all, who has the wherewithal to carry around a million tissues (which, given the state of my cold, I most certainly would have needed) and dispose of them like a shower of diseased confetti?
I'll say this without shame - I can't leave home without the comforting bulk of a handkerchief in my pocket. I feel naked without one. To the point where, if I have forgotten my handkerchief and cannot actually return home, my day is completely off-kilter.
Anyway, what's this all about? Bombay is one city where carrying handkerchiefs should be required by law. Especially on trains where a variety of gents masticate enthusiastically on greasy victuals and then, egads, coolly grasp the handrails, the same handrails that another guy whose guttural, Black Lung-like coughing/sneezing, unimpeded by anything but his goddamn hands, just held on to a minute ago. I could go on, but I'd like to keep my readership. So, suffice to say, there's a jolly pathogen party happening all around us, all the time and our simplest line of defense, the humble handkerchief, could easily alleviate the horrors if only every man, woman and child were ordered to carry one. Honestly, what stops people from just tucking one into their bags, pockets or what-have-you, I do not know, especially when the very same turd-buckets will whip out not one but two phones and proceed to conduct their business, oblivious to the world while occasionally spraying their immediate neighbours with a gentle yet generous shower of fine snot.
I mean, if nothing else, the handkerchief is a handy tool to dust a seat, wipe water (or worse) off a surface, dry hands, tie a tourniquet (try that with tissue, morons), use as a quick umbrella or sunhat, and so on. Handkerchiefs make the world a better place. It's time people wrapped their heads around that.
Song for the moment: Both Sides Now - Joni Mitchell
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