I want to use the icky door handle

We must have been quite a sight today: A guy in a wheelchair bundled up against the cold walking a dog and carrying on his lap a bright red, big dog pillow heading down a very moderate hill (No, it wasn't steep).

I took home Claren's bedding out of kindness for the others at my workplace. The pillow was a Christmas gift so it wasn't dirty, but the rugs had been there a while (think years).

But now everything is shiny clean, so any germaphobes in my office can be happy.

It occurred to me that I am a good one for germaphobes to have around. Not that I am squeaky clean. Far from it. If it is not a visible mess and it would take more than a little effort I am leaving it for someone else.

But I use a wheelchair. I give germaphobes freedom from that most vile instrument: the bathroom door handle.

It is kind of surprising to see people who can walk hit the automatic door opener. Most, I suspect, are the people who open doors with a paper towel so they avoid contact with the handle. Some just find it easier.

I don't mind. I guess I am just jealous.

The door opener on one of my bathrooms (well, the bathrooms I have access to) is broken. But it is only broken on the inside of the bathroom. I go in fine, but then have to wither wait for someone to come in. Usually, I just pry the door open and hold it off my chair so I don't scrape the door, then turn sharply because the bathroom is in an alcove, then shoot out before the door smacks my chair.

The minute I can walk again, and I am not holding my breath, I will never use automatic door openers. Unless, say, I were carrying a big, red dog pillow.