It all began with our old sponge. It had disappeared from the kitchen sink and reappeared on the window sill, ostensibly to dry out. When the explanation was proffered that it smelled funny, we decided to get a new sponge--being without a microwave and any way to "clean" the old one at the moment.
When man saw the brown scrubby I had found, he said, "Oh. We already have one of those."
"We do? For the dishes? I didn't see one at the sink."
"Oh. Maybe it's hiding out...?"
Used to nonsensical questions, I just stared at him. "Where would a sponge hide out?"
"In your...hair?" The question response was uttered just as a brown sponge landed on top of my head. And stuck. Soon after came my (mostly joking) renaming of Man to Jerk.
"Why am I a jerk? It does match your hair."
A little more banter, pouting and whacking with a sponge later ensue. Then the dawning realisation sneaks in. "Wait. Are you going to retaliate via blog post?"
"I don't know," I lie with a pout, walking away from Man to take the sponge to the kitchen.
"Noooo!" Man tackles me back onto the bed, hugging and kissing my still-pouting face. "Don't you need to lie down? ...and relax? ....and get cuddles?"
Clearly, his tactics to assuage my facetiously scorned self worked. :)
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