Forget the holly-hauling, fruitcake-slicing, and carols at the spinet. We have a whole new way to usher in a little Christmas where we need it, right this very minute!

You just got a puzzled look on your face. This is stupid, you say. What do these small, wet disposable towels that you use to rub all the potential spittage off of your x-ray sensors and keyboards have to do with Christmas?

Maybe a little of my rusty singing will be enough of a hint:

Here comes Sani-Cloth, here comes Sani-Cloth. Right down Sani-Cloth Lane. ♫

Take your face out of your palm now. Bad punnage will do that. sorry.

So. This all started about a month ago at an ophthalmologist’s office after waiting a painful amount of time in a quiet, poorly-lit room. The only entertainment was a red container of these towels, and prone as I am to fits of absurdity, I started cackling and generally cracking up because the ones we use in our dental practice are green, and of course I noticed the name of these things for the first. time. evah. Red. Green. Sani-Cloth.

*chortle*

*snort*

Sani-cloth. I’m a blind elf with a lisp. Does Sani-Cloth work with Hermey the elf? He wanted to be a dentist, not an optometrist. Ho Ho Ho!

*hiccup*

And here’s the WORST. worst worst worst example of what happens when humor strikes at the wrong time.

I had thoughts about Sani-Cloth on July 4th.

Only problem was, that day, I was with my extended family in an ICU unit, and my dearest, most precious, 92 year old grandfather was in his last moments of life. Right there, I picked up the red canister that they used in the hospital room, just like in the ophthalmology office, just like in our dental practice, and gave an appropriate preface to the punchline. Then I delivered it.

Ummm. Awkward bomb.

But my grandfather, this joke was right up his alley.  He loved puns. In my mind I could hear his own special delight sound made to reward my well-paced dork moment.

Iz Zat You, Sani-Cloth?

I sang gently off-key, in Grandfather’s ear, with his hospital caregivers using the wipes to protect all of the armamentarium in the room from the ick of the world that we, his family, had probably brought with us when we were welcomed into this final sanctum.

He died just after midnight, a few hours later after I’d told him the last joke he would ever hear.

Thank you, Sani-Cloth, for your wet-wipe wellness, and for being at an absurd yet expected place at a sacred time. And thank you, Grandfather, for sharing your sense of humor.

*sniffle*

Also, a ton of gratitude goes to my cousin Greg for posting this video tribute to our grandfather on YouTube. And that first song? That was the one I just happened to be singing off-key in his ear at the hospital…