I'll bet there's no name for this phobia

So I was just now noticing that my kitchen sponge, although new and not worn out at all, is kind of stinky. And I thought I'd tell you a little something about me you probably didn't know, but would find amusing when paired with the anecdote that follows.

I hate sponges. Mind you, I do use them...although it's likely if someone pointed out a different way I could do things I might take up a new way of doing things. I already use cloth handkerchiefs, a habit I picked up when I was about 16, and probably an oddity. I already use the heck out of my kitchen towels rather than using paper towels, which basically I use to mop up cat puke, but little other than that.

But the dreaded dish sponge. Eeeew. I wonder if my aversion began at my first job after grad school. I was an executive assistant at a design firm where my boss was always drunk. And one day he told me I needed to run the dish sponge through the dishwasher because it was full of bacteria. At first I thought he might be drunkenly kidding. But then I realized he was serious.

I wonder if that scarred me.

I have never lived in a house with a functional dishwasher, and frankly if I had one wish-list item, a dishwasher it would be--since I do a lot of cooking from scratch, which in turn creates a lot of dishes. Plus it would deal with that nasty sponge issue.

I've noticed that if I moisten (eewww) the stinky sponge and then cook it in the microwave for a couple of minutes, it smells a bit better. Although the scent of cooking sponge permeates the kitchen. But I conclude that the microwave zap has killed some sponge bacteria.

Okay, so here's the anecdote I promised you.

Ten years ago, I had this grand scheme to move from Chicago to Wisconsin and become a writer. All the research I've done suggests that the cost of living in Wisconsin is much lower, but I move here and, surprise! It's not.

So I see a nearby job opening at a library I've been to that seems friendly enough, and I apply. And weirdly enough, I get that job.

What's one of the first things they tell me? "Oh, here's a ziploc bag of letter-shaped sponges that goes out with a kit we check out to homeschoolers. Could you rinse those out?"

...

Oh God. They're MOIST.

(I could tell you how happy I am to no longer have a day job, but I doubt I can convey the depth of that sentiment in writing.)