Its not crazy... its cute!

Okay, so here's the thing.... I'm really weird about illness. I know this isn't an uncommon thing, because really, who wants to be sick? But my weirdness takes the "Ahh I don't want the sniffles" issue well beyond "OH MY GUACAMOLE I'M GOING TO SUFFOCATE ON MY OWN SNOT AND DIE UNCOMFORTABLY IN MY SLEEP!!!!"
Yeah, I'm BIG fun!
Anyway, back home this was something that, while not normal, all of my friends at least knew about. So when someone turned up sick, and I stopped speaking to them while simultaneously wiping them down with disinfectant during lunch, they at least knew what was going on. (Saying that they understood would be taking HUGE generosities in the situation). But here... no one knows here. I am two hours away from the core of people who understand (read: Tolerate) my fear of the common cold.
So the dirty looks I was shooting Person A in my Monday classes? Its not your laugh, or your smile, or even your being that offends me... its the fact that as I sat next to you, I could feel your cough tickling my neck and shoulders. THAT'S RIGHT. Somehow, the hand you held fourteen inches away from your face didn't COVER THE MULTITUDE of illness leaking from your person, and it spread everywhere. Not unlike mold. Or the Black Death. I felt like Cruelle DeVille, stading in a room of 101 puppies that wouldn't stop shitting on the carpet, and all I could do in response was wave my arms in the air with rage.
And Person B, I know we have established that we are friends, and my unwillingness to hang out isn't because I'm busy or I don't like you anymore (in truth, I've begun to miss your company) it simply because I am afraid to catch your cold. Only dial that up a million times. Its not really "fear" its more like life-gripping, watch-my-memories-flash-in-consecutive-order, discomfort at the realization that you are going to get me sick, and then I will have to die.
I know that I am in my second month of college and therefore WILL get sick. After all, I live with over 200 people... we're like a life-sized culture for disease and social cues. But I'm just issuing a warning now- when I get sick, I am unbearable. I do research (every time, even if I've had the same issue twice before) and I refuse to get out of my pajamas. The only work I do is what can reasonably be attacked from the confines of my bed, where I lay moaning in misery. I alternate between building a used-tissue castle around myself, and disinfecting everything so that I can't re-catch the illness once I've gotten it, and so I don't spread it to someone else and keep the cycle going perpetually. Because forever is a long time.
I wish I could say that this uncomfortable case of the crazies is restricted to illness. Maybe, compared to all those other things I have stored in my artillery of crazy, the fear of getting sick is a generally reasonable one. But the truth of the matter is, I organize the food in my closet according to size and meal usage, I have a very specific ratio of distance between the magnets on my fridge, and I like to put things in either straight lines or distance them at 90 degree angles from each other, because that makes everything look nicer. And we won't get into my absolute horror pertaining to public bodily functions. We just won't. Not today.
Now please excuse me, I seem to have caught a cold and I now have to count my eyelashes so see how many I pulled out in horror. :)