While the pandemic is flattening in some areas and surging in others, the fundamental caution remains in place: Do not touch your face.
The bad news is that the world is divided into two sorts of people-those who constantly touch their faces and those who do not.
I am a face toucher.
My face and hands were made for each other. My chin nestles into my palm and my hand stretches out like a soft, comfy recliner custom-built for the side of my face.
Other times I touch the sides of my face rubbing my temples attempting to awaken brain cells. It hasn't worked so far, but that doesn't mean I've stopped trying.
Sometimes I touch my face brushing away stray hairs, pushing my glasses up or pulling at a glob of mascara on my eyelashes.
Then there is the itching. My eyebrows itch, my eyes itch, my ears itch, my nose itches, and sometimes I imagine things crawling on the back of my neck.
This morning, I tried removing a semi-colon from a sentence three times before I realized it was a tiny ant parked on my computer screen. Now I feel like the ant, although no longer with us, is crawling across my feet and circling my ankles making them itch, too.
I am a face-toucher itching from head to toe.
Of course, you know what happens to people who touch their faces when they put on facemasks. They contort their eyes and wrinkle their noses attempting to scratch an itch and even rub the sides of their faces on their shoulders.