Sponge-Phobia (translated by mom)

A friend of mine says that I have some very strange habits, and she is right. Today I tried to describe to my mother the torment that it is to me in order to clean up the kitchen. At the same time I could not stop laughing about myself, because when I put my sponge-phobia into words, I noticed how absurd it was. Here is how the story goes:

I always wear gloves when I touch sponges, which I hate, but ironically I was not wearing gloves when we decided to clean the kitchen. Awful... I took a new sponge for me, that is not as disgusting as sponges already in use, and decided to clean a part which was not that dirty. Difficult, but ok. Then, for sheer lack of attention, I left the sponge somewhere for just a minute and when I came back my cleaning-pal was using MY sponge to clean a particularly dirty part of the kitchen; that was too much for my phobia, which grew stronger than my rationality. I found a pair of gloves which were used for hair dying in order go on with the cleaning. The funny part of this incident comes when I tried to describe the whole affair to my mother (which is a sensible person concerning sponges), the "why" of my phobia. The message run more or less like this:


I: Mom, we cleaned the kitchen, every single glass, dish, pot, etc.

Mom: Ouch, a hell of a work

I: but the worst of it is, that now I have no new gloves and will have to touch that sponge to wash the dishes.

Mom: Look, that will not kill you. Remember that the leftover on the dish is exactly the same food what you put in your mouth before.

I: The sponge is the problem, it absorbs everything and then, I mean, the bits were left on the dish. They grow old on the sponge and when you rinse it next time for use, a dirty broth comes out, and while you are rubbing the little grains insist in coming between your hand and the sponge…. HELP!

Mom: No, you're not doing it the right way. You rinse the utensils as soon as you finished eating. The leftovers are rinsed away. Then you put soap on a clean the sponge, rub and rinse, dry and … ready!

I: did you read the end of my sponge-story?

Mom: Yes, I did, but this happens because you do not rinse or clean with a paper towel the dishes, pans, etc. before washing them.

I: I always do, but if it is stuck to the utensil, then nothing can be done. And you know, one grain is enough to bother me and… oh that old broth flowing from the sponge.

Mom: It can't be old if you wash up immediately.

I: But the sponge stays there for one, two weeks, its new one day and the other it is already dirty.

I noticed that mom did not get the idea of my phobia and that she believed that my pals soiled the sponge…

Mom: Damn it, these people don't know how to do the dishes. Paper towels are great. Try to pass the idea to your friends. If the sponge remains dirty on the sink, than it's your turn to get angry or ask the nurse (who lives here with us) for help. There is no use to wash all the utensils with disinfectants if the sponge is to put all the germs back.

I tried to explain myself more clearly:

I: No matter what sponge, I see a sponge and can’t stop thinking on the old broth, I never used a sponge back at home, I hate sponges.

Mom: Well, you will have to "un-hate" it.

I: but I keep hating sponges

Then it dawned upon my mother and she philosophized about the issue:

Mother: Each one of us has its own paranoias. How could we enjoy peace of mind if there were no paranoias, annoyances, etc. in contrast?

Very deep