Trigger warning…this post might make Monday worse. In fact, by starting with a g-damned trigger warning it already has. Also- reminder I am an expert on virtually nothing other than being a lazy parent and wearing comfortable shoes. So take my recommendations with a shaker of salt.

Might as well be bacteria number 2210 rather than cute cow number 2210.

Might as well be bacteria number 2210 rather than cute cow number 2210.

I started my day down a rabbit hole. It was my own fault…mine and pretty much all of you. I read about superbugs and sadly I don’t mean turbo charged Volkswagon. In Ferris Jabr’s New York times article that was designed to be uplifting…(plants sourced using ethnobiology might save us from our own over use of medicine) instead I read the negatives. Evidently we are 10 years away from living in a “pre- anitibiotic” society. Which is actually a post anti-biotic society. Between over prescribing antibiotics to everyone (and their mother) and prophylactically giving pills to livestock who might not have gotten sick in more spacious living conditions we have created antibiotic resistant bacteria. Fuck. It also turns out the bacteria can pass on their resistance through plasmids…which means we don’t need to wait for them to breed to share this new skill. Instead they can pass the ability to fight antibiotics directly to other strains. Strains that are living on our skin right now. See, yuck… and fuck. What am I doing? Long ago I threw away our anti-bacterial soap, ditched the neosporin, and took AB prescriptions only in the case of lingering and serious infection. Plus, we don’t eat any animals treated with antibiotics. So our dollars don’t support the farms that have perpetuated the problem.  My hope is that it makes my personal immune system stronger and the germs weaker. But hoping isn’t the same as knowing (which is only half the battle itself)

screen-shot-2016-09-19-at-9-09-56-amAfter reading that we are a decade from death by superbug I figured learning about debunking of the five second rule might seem less lethal. Scientists tested over 2,000 combinations of food type, floor type and length of contact with floor. Turns out the longer it is down there the dirtier it gets. Also turns out that carpet transmits less bacteria than hard surfaces. Which makes no sense because we know that carpet has pounds of human skin and dirt in it.  Then again, our dead skin contains fewer superbugs than our epidermis.  I’m decided to ignore the study and keep eating food off of the floor. Except watermelon. Those suckers suck up everything. This isn’t a huge change for me…I don’t eat melon anyways. And before you ask that include cantalope and honeydew and even cucumbers which might as well be melon. I will also never carpet my kitchen, cause then I might have to eat floor watermelon.

screen-shot-2016-09-19-at-9-11-21-amAfter about 45 minutes of reading studies about deadly germs I decided to get the hell off of my dirty floors and out of my house. I skipped brushing my teeth because I want to help the world. I am willing to sacrifice for the rest of you. When I arrived at my office the coffee shop I was greeted by the pumpkin zombies. The hoards of people who want spiced pumpkin latte, and chai, and tea bread crowded the vestibule and snaked through the small space. Now the pumpkin infestation has taken on the strength of the super bug. That crap is everywhere. I am going to have to avoid supermarkets until cranberry season.

So the things I am going to do to solve these problems? I will do none things. I will NOT use neosporin. I will NOT buy carpet. I will NOT order the pumpkin latte. Maybe tomorrow I will NOT read the New York Times. Which might allow the time and fortitude to brush my teeth. Because it won’t be none-day anymore.

I am also considering channeling my inner Vermonter and ordering the Herbal Apothecary. Does anyone have experience with this?



The following two tabs change content below.
Anna Rosenblum Palmer is a freelance writer based in Denver, CO. She writes about sex, parenting, cat pee, bi-polar disorder and the NFL; all things inextricably intertwined with her mental health. In her free time she teaches her boys creative swear words, seeks the last missing puzzle piece and thinks deeply about how she is not exercising. Her writing can be found on Babble,, Great Moments in Parenting, Ravishly, Good Men Project, Sammiches and Psych Meds, Playpen, Crazy Good Parent, and YourTango. She also does a fair amount of navel gazing on her own blog at

Latest posts by Anna Palmer (see all)