Obsessions

Both my grandmothers were preoccupied with having a clean home. This grip might have been cultural; it might have been that both were survivors of the 1918 pandemic; it might have been some combination of many things.

Cleanliness has recently reestablished its importance as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic, most publicly in the form of hand washing, the wearing of masks, and distancing, among other things. In the shadow of the darkness of early morning, here I am cleaning the countertop with soap and water. Soap and water because I know that the virus is a self-assembled nanoparticle in which the weakest link is the lipid (fatty) bilayer, and soap dissolves the fat membrane, the virus falls apart like a house of cards and dies – or rather, we should say it becomes inactive as viruses aren’t really alive [1].

I find this image of a dissolving virus somewhat comforting, even though the thought of their various parts strewn all over the place might be a cause for pause. Yet, I digress into my phobias fuelled by news coverage. Notwithstanding, it is something to do. At a point in time where one might feel helpless, a pawn of the uncontrollable, washing the counter top is something that offers sense of taking back control, vanquishing the enemy, purifying the home, and accomplishing something. It also passes the time.