Explains More Than It Doesn't...

T Street, San Clemente, CA

I suppose I should preface this by telling you that I heard this story from my parents about a year or two ago....

When I was a little girl, my Grandma Connie would take me to the beach (here) and she would read a book while I played with the other kids on the beach. Lo and behold, I approached my grandma with sand all over my little 5 year old's hands one day and told her that they were dirty. "Yes, Aimee - they are" to which I replied "but what am I going to do?!?" with all of the seriousness and consternation that my 5 year old self could muster.
The story goes that the whole family got a kick out this one - especially because I had apparently stumped my grandma. Naturally she had raised less dainty children than yours truly.
And there you have the genesis of my ocd-like need to wash my hands.... Although, to be fair, prior to my 20s, I was your not-so-average late blooming tom boy - but that's neither here nor there.