It was our first date together. The woman who was to become my wife, the lady I call Mara, got up from the table within minutes of her arrival and excused herself to wash her hands. I found her gesture very adorable. She was like a little meerkat, leaning over the faucet to tidy herself before eating. At the same time, I found it weird, as I quintessentially don't wash my hands before eating, unless I'd spent the day
coal mining, or running an offset printing press.
