i used to think the most controversial kitchen purchase was a shared milk carton. then i brought home a smiling sponge. the Scrub Daddy looked cheerfully unbothered by the history of dishes piled beside our sink, and my roommate instantly announced that we should establish fair access to it. fair access to a sponge. this is the household i live in.
he argued that whoever used the sponge most should have priority. i argued that whoever actually washed the plates should have priority. he countered with a proposal involving alternating weekends and a written schedule. i asked whether he planned to introduce it to a mediator. he said we couldn't be too careful with communal property.
the absurd part is that the sponge is genuinely a product with a defined purpose: its FlexTexture material changes firmness depending on water temperature, and it's made for scrubbing. none of that required us to establish visitation rights. yet my roommate kept moving it to a place of honor beside his coffee mug, as though it were an endangered pet.
we finally agreed on a rule: the smiling sponge belongs to whoever is standing at the sink actually cleaning something. the arrangement has been devastating to my roommate's legal strategy. he's considering an appeal. the sponge remains cheerful, which is more than i can say for the rest of us.
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