A Scary (Sponge) Story
So I might as well tell you now – because, Lord knows, you guys will find out soon enough – that I have a lot of quirks.
Like, for instance, I’m a gum addict who chews at least two pieces at a time. At least. I’ve cut back from my pack-a-day habit, but I could still easily fritter away hours a day contentedly gnawing, like a golden retriever, on a massive wad of gum until I have sucked every last flavor crystal out of it. And I’ll even mix flavors, too.
Peppermint and bubblegum? I ain’t skerred.
Anyhoo, somewhere near the top of my long, long list of neurotic quirks are sponges.
More specifically, gross sponges.
I think it has to do with being somewhat of a germophobe, but I have what can only be described as a “thing” about them. So much so that I even listed it in my “Who the heck is Erin?” section off to the right of this post.
Seriously, take a look. I’ll wait…
See? It’s right there. And why? Because it’s something I feel you should know about me before we go any further in this relationship.
And it’s sponges specifically — I don’t even mind germs in most other forms really. But, for some reason, if there’s a two-day-old sponge lurking around that smells even slightly funky, game over.
And what is that old sponge smell anyway? It’s like a combination of mildew, wet dog and the inside of an old Civil War trunk all in one. I guarantee you we eat nothing in our house that might ever potentially produce that smell. So where does it magically come from?
Ok, I feel you’ve been appropriately briefed on my deep-seated sponge issues. Moving on…
So, ladies and gentlemen, imagine my complete and utter horror when I innocently stop by the office breakroom to wash a coffee cup and come face-to-face with…
What IS that??
Going against every natural instinct for self-preservation, I chance a closer look.
I know it’s blurry. But I wasn’t sticking around for a second shot.
I immediately whip my palms to my face in self-defense, shut my eyes tight and turn my head away with my mouth frozen in a silent scream like you see every female victim do in Hitchcock movies.
Do people in the office actually use this? And how, in this modern-day era of advanced health awareness and disease prevention, is this moldy, bacteria-infested zombie-sponge acceptable??
This will haunt every fiber of my being for a long, long time.
Oh, and then I saw a ghost.
(Phew! I hope I didn’t scare you guys too much…)
Were you & Katie ever attacked by a band of moldy alley sponges or something? I mean, she’s terrified of Sponge Bob Square Pants, and you get all screaming-Alfred-Hitchcock-damsel-y when confronted with one…
Love the post. I share your aversion. The work sponge freaks me out…if we had a garbage disposal here, I’d probably “accidentally” stuff that nasty little guy down with a spoon and turn it on…
Thank-the-Lord! For paper towels. Especially the “pick-a-size” ones because I have the same tolerance for used dish towels! Don’t reuse a dish cloth people! I wash and dry everything with paper towels or a clean bar towel. Never used twice mind you.
Sponges? Tried it but I share your dysfunction Erin.
Oh, and metal handrails… I’d rather fall down a mountain of steps then uses a metal handrail!
Haha, handrails are definitely another suspect in my book! I wonder if neuroses are genetic, cause we’d definitely be a test case… :)
You know that’s how the impending zombie-apocalypse will begin, right? The one that I probably won’t survive without reaching the coast and finding a non-hungry zombie boat captain who will take me out to the deepest parts of the ocean. You know, where the fish congregate in big delicious masses and where the water is drinkable? Anyway, it all begins with the greasy death-germs in spunkges. Hmm, doesn’t really roll off the tongue like I wanted. I’ll work on it.
Haha, a valiant effort nonetheless…
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