Tales from the Suite Life: 10 Second Rule My Eye

I am your average, run-of-the mill germaphobe. I cringe at the thought of shopping carts and public restrooms and like most moms view McDonald's Playland and the mall's play-places as distribution centers for your standard cough, cold, and flu bugs. But what are you going to do? Stay home? nah.

Kids are kids--hand washing and sanitizer are only going to get you so far. At some point, they are going to put something in their mouth or on their hands and you'll find yourself on Aisle 5 trying to decide whether cherry or grape Children's Tylenol is your best bet. I am improving. I've moved past the doe-eyed new mommy phase where you quiz everyone down including your own mother about their medical history before they hold your newborn(sorry Mom--I was a psycho!) I've let my hair down, so to speak. (ever noticed how much hair falls on the bathroom floor? Gross. I diverge)

But I still draw the line somewhere, and that line rests securely on the floor of this hotel. You all know what the 10 second rule is, right?

Insofar as any food object falls on the floor, it is declared sanitarily acceptable so long as said object is retrieved within ten seconds of involuntary drop.

. . .or something like that. Roughly put, dorito falls on floor, person picks dorito up and puts it in their mouth. I don't make the rules. But every rule has its acceptation and I'm looking at it. This floor doesn't make me want to puke. It actually sort of smells like puke. No lie.
Ten Second Rule my eye. There isn't a One Second Rule enacted here. You're in the "No-Zone" if it's below the knee. A girl's gotta have her standards.

Sigh.

I love my life.