A Victory for Germs

I went to the doctor yesterday to get my stitches out. Since he is a dermatologist, I decided to ask him about why my hands are as dry as they are (I try to hit my doctors with multiple things a visit, as I have insurance, but these $30 copays for seeing specialists adds up! What am I, made of solid silver, like my friend John Dyer?*) In any case, the conversation with the doctor went something like this:

Dr. S: So, your hands are dry huh?
Me: Yup.
Dr. S: Why are they so dry?
Me: (Confused, as I expected him to answer this question) Uh, I use lotion, but I also wash my hands pretty frequently.
Dr. S: (Pulling down his crazy, mad scientist, head-piece magnifier) Oh yeah, these are dry. Why do you wash your hands so much?
Me: (Briefly considering telling him about my mom and the kids dying from unwashed hands, but deciding against it because, really, how crazy do I want to look to this guy?) Uh, I dunno.
Dr. S: Don't wash them so much. There's nothing magic I can do. Is that all?

The only logical rationale that I can think of for him to tell me these things is that the germs have gotten to this guy, and he's giving bad counsel. That's all I'm saying. That's very pernicious of you, germs, but I will not be defeated!

* Right after I graduated from college, John and I (and various and other sundry fellows) were roommates, and, being fresh graduates or current college students, we didn't have a lot of money, so we mused how great it would be if only John were actually made of silver, mostly so we could sing "Wouldn't it be nice if John were silver?" to the tune of the Beach Boys's song "Wouldn't It Be Nice?" Maybe if we spent our time looking for jobs instead of changing two of the first eight words of a popular song, we wouldn't have had to resort to alchemy.