Learning new habits isn't so difficult, compared to unlearning old habits. I learned a rigorous hand-washing routine pretty quickly. But even after weeks of shelter-at-home, I struggle to stop old habits. When I head out for a pre-dawn exercise walk, I absent-mindedly turn off the light—so when I come back home (in the dark) I must choose between stumbling to the sink (in the dark) so I can wash my hands (in the dark) or I can turn the lights back on with perhaps-plaguey hands (and then use precious disinfectant cleaning the switch). On my way back into my apartment, I absent-mindedly lock the deadbolt before I've washed my hands; and there goes more disinfectant.

April is National Poetry Month. I suppose I should make up some mnemonic rhyme to say as I approach my apartment door to remind myself what to touch and not-touch. But it should be quick; I don't want to stand muttering to myself by the door for 30 seconds whenever I head in or out.

Go for walk,
Key in lock.
Only gawk.
Touch? No, balk.

Hmm, that's not so great. Any better poems out there?