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Monday, May 23, 2005

Virus Wars, the Old-Fashioned Kind

My younger daughter is in the final two weeks of a three-year class that has been marvelous for her. She has now entered into her inheritance: in these final two weeks, the third graders get to help run the class, go out for golf-pizza-etc with the teachers, and graduate in a highly individualized ceremony. And I have a cold, which she must not get.

We tend to be fatalistic about viruses in our family, assuming that we'll pass 'em around. This time, we are trying to fight what may be fated. I am washing my hands constantly, and warning Younger Daughter to do the same. I am allowed only brief hugs with no kisses and breath held. I am picking things up with tissues. I am feeling like Typhoid Mary.

And yet I know I'm still not managing to keep the home environment virus-free. I touch the keyboard where my virus-ridden fingers have been, and then move a stool that someone may touch or answer the phone without protective gear.... I'm not sure whether I wish I could see some glowing leering triumphant virus wherever I accidentally leave it.

I've decided to give up on the keyboard and mouse, and caution everyone to wash their hands immediately after using either. And not to touch their faces while on the computer. Yeah, right.

Do we get credit, somehow, for drastically reducing the number of ways she can get this cold?...

Where are antiviral nanobots when we need them?!?

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