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When I was a teenager, my then best friend came to visit my home for the first time. As we chatted in the kitchen, she said out of the blue, "You guys don't have any dust on the shelves."
Her remark took me by surprise.
Why would anyone notice that? I told my mom about it, and she said, "No, that's not true. There's lots of dust around."
According to her, her sisters-in-law cleaned a whole lot more than she did. They'd wash their floors more often. One of them even moved the washing machine to clean underneath.
In my mind, the U.S. is more worried about germs than Austria.
Back home, I use the exact same plate for a second helping at the buffet. To this day, I haven't really understood why American restaurants don't allow that. Some of these restaurants will use the same pitcher to refill the water glasses, although at times the pitcher will touch the glass right where the customer's lips touch.
Sometimes Austrian restaurants serve slices of bread in a basket with your meal. If you take the bread out of the basket, you'll be charged. If not, it'll be used for someone else. The policy makers of Olive Garden would shudder at this. They require their servers to throw out the breadsticks the minute the basket touches the table. Even if you tell your server right away you don't want them and no one even touched them, they'll still be thrown out. I therefore make sure to tell the server "No breadsticks, please" when ordering my meal.
The oddest thing I've ever come across happened not long ago in State College, where my husband Rick and I had lunch with a friend.
None of us wanted straws with their drinks. The straws were fully wrapped, and we returned them to the server right away.
He, however, threw them out. When he brought Rick a refill later, he came with a brand new glass and a brand new, fully wrapped straw. He sat the glass down and said, "Oh, right, you guys don't like straws." The straw didn't touch the table -- and he still threw it out.
Almost 20 years ago, Rick took me to Irving's in State College. "A great sandwich place" he said. It was a great sandwich place indeed. As I sat across from him trying to figure out how to best eat this sauce-laden monstrosity, Rick was merrily chewing away, seemingly oblivious to the sauces running down from his mouth and over his hands. It creeped me out. While trying to handle my sandwich as civilized as possible -- and this was next to impossible -- I got it down as fast as I could and rushed off to the bathroom to clean my face and hands. Rick, in contrast, just wiped his mouth and hands with a napkin and went on with his day.
My dad was always big on washing hands, and this habit of his has become an obsession for me. Every time I come home, I'll wash my hands. Every time I fill the car with gas, I'll wash my hands. Every time I eat an apple, I'll wash my hands. It actually got worse during COVID. I'd never been big on touching doorknobs anyway. Too often had I seen people leave bathrooms without washing their hands. But ever since COVID, a small disinfectant in my pocket has been my best friend.
It's come in so handy.
Touching doorknobs when leaving public bathrooms? No problem. Eating bananas during walks?
No problem. Touching public light switches?
Again, no problem. My best friend's always there.
If you asked Rick, he'd tell you I'm radical. Well, he'd say "radical" and mean "totally nuts." During COVID, I made him wash his hands a lot more than he normally would. And I still haven't relaxed on that issue much.
He loves telling people how he always has to wash his hands because "Dani wants me to." He truly doesn't care about touching doorknob after doorknob and then eating popcorn with his germ-covered hands. The irony is: he hardly ever gets sick.
Rick's also a crumbler. Big time. If you visited our place, you'd easily identify Rick's favorite spot on the couch. It doesn't matter how often I remind him to use a plate for his cookies, he won't do it. For a while it drove me crazy, but thanks to my therapist, I now just laugh about it.
To be honest though, I, too, don't take as much care of our place as I should.
While I'm not as relaxed as Rick, I didn't inherit my mom's cleaning habits. And to be fair, despite growing up in such a sterile household and now living in a home that would make my mom faint, I don't get sick that often either.
Hygiene is important. No doubt about it. It's one of the most effective ways to avoid the spread of diseases. Yet we can overdo it. I probably should approach my therapist about my hand-washing obsession.
But I'm not ready to give that up just yet. Sorry, Rick. You'll have to keep disinfecting your hands.
Remember, it took me over 10 years to return to Irving's.
And we didn't even go there for another sandwich.
It was just a quick in-and-out for a dozen bagels.
Dr. Daniela Ribitsch, a native of Austria, is a resident of Lock Haven.