A fine example of cross contamination.

Why, oh why, deliver clean bedding on a luggage trolley? I appreciate it is easier to transport, but it really does defeat the purpose of changing the bed sheets. And it makes the Hygiene Hunter cranky.

Can you catch Pink Eye from this exhibit?

Mind games.

I imagined a giant bed bug in place of the comb in René Magritte's painting Les Valeurs personnelles on display at SFMOMA and was quickly thankful his mind did not go there. His goal, according to the Wiki Gods, was to make viewers hypersensitive to their surroundings. Check.

A or an?

Regardless, you should still wash your hands.

Everything in its place please.

I cannot imagine this being appetizing even with the meat on the bone. There was a garbage can within a few steps of this sidewalk buffet. Reduce? Reuse? Recycle? In this case, please just toss the animal remains where they belong.

Tempting.

I thought about renting one of these bikes in San Francisco, but didn't. Oddly enough, it wasn't the communal aspect that dissuaded me, but rather the hills. More sanitizer for the airplane.

Garbage day.

I am so glad I purchased an organic mattress. Unlike these, mine will decompose as opposed to ending up in a landfill.

Relief at SFMOMA.

Robert Rauschenberg's White Painting (1951) and a bottle of champagne helped me forget (at least temporarily) the stained mattress cover, cockroach and moldy cheese in my hotel room. Perhaps one day The Stained Mattress Cover, Cockroach and Moldy Cheese will be on display at the SFMOMA.

Strike Three.

I am intrigued by the moldy cheese in the minibar, however I cannot find it on the menu.

Strike Two.

When we checked into our San Francisco hotel room there were only two of us. The next morning there were three. For a limited time anyway. Ecolabs "the gobal leader in cleaning, sanitizing, food safety and infection control products and services" were called in to investigate by the hotel. The director of housekeeping said they treat these matters seriously. We never did hear back from housekeeping or the relatives of the deceased.

Strike One.

Look what I found as a result of my hotel room inspection during a recent stay in San Francisco. The good news is this stain -- NOT MINE -- did not permeate the mattress cover, so the mattress was not affected and I did not have to change rooms. Housekeeping did have to replace all bedding. How this can be missed is beyond me.

More to worry about.

Doorknobs. Faucets. Newspaper handles. And now pipes.

On the subject of diapers.

I am learning to be less judgmental. At first when I saw this diaper on a San Francisco street corner I thought, "This is no place to change a baby." Then I reconsidered my hastily drawn conclusion. Perhaps mommy/daddy/nanny looked both ways before changing the nappy, were surprised by a car making a left hand turn, had to move out of harms way and, in their haste, innocently forgot to pick up the soiled diaper. Perhaps.

One primate checking in.

Jeff Koons' gorgeous ceramic sculpture (1988) of Michael Jackson and Bubbles reminded me of a story I was told a few years ago by a five-star hotel employee in Miami Beach who remembered an occasion when ... a chimpanzee was a guest. Let's just say if your beloved -- chimp or chump -- is not fond of the toilet, you too will be paying to have the penthouse suite refurbished from top to bottom.

The flawless craftsmanship of this piece makes it a must see in person and there are no droppings to contend with. This sculpture is part of the SFMOMA's The Anniversary Show and their permanent collection.

Taxi!

The Folsom Street Fair. The one day of the year when many tasty bits are put on display at this annual block party that wraps San Francisco's Leather Pride Week. This spirited event that raises funds for many local charities attracts an estimated 400,000 people from around the world -- those who do and those who would rather just watch. Think of Folsom as old-fashioned fun. This past Sunday was the 27th year. Nudity is legal in California as long as no one participates publicly in a lewd act.

I, for one, am totally cool with public nudity as long as it doesn't ride in my taxi:)

Do you pick up naked people?

The answer from one taxi driver was “sometimes”. Another said he “would never do that”. Tomorrow you will find out why I was curious.

A poet's turn.

This poem was commissioned by my lovely daughter Alexa. While in the Haight district of San Francisco she met Lynn Gentry a roving-poet-with-typewriter who creates for a donation.

Goodbye San Francisco.

Over to you mother.

My darling children took this photo in San Francisco for me to comment on. First off, I would like to thank Alexa and Zach for their recent guest posts and for the opportunity to analyze the above picture. This is a perfect example of why you should pick up after yourself. Or your dog. Not everyone looks down at the ground when walking. In this instance, it looks like someone with a small foot was oblivious to this leave behind. It could have been a child or even Cinderella. Regardless, this person then tracked the contents along with them to their next destination. The slide at a playground. Prince Charming's bachelor pad with shag carpet. As for the color, I have no idea what one would have to eat to produce this two-toned marvel. Miss.

One way to build immunity.

My friend Madelaine who lives in San Francisco told me when she was younger she used to bite her fingernails while alternately hanging onto a bus handrail. She thinks she's built up her immune system for a lifetime. I know what the Hygiene Hunter -- my mother -- would say about that. "Plastic bubbles exist for a reason."

By Alexa (& Zach)