Sponge

Does it ever occur to you that a dry sponge looks a bit like cheese? Holely. Yellow. Dry. No you surely don’t like dry cheese. French cheese is the best. The more they stink the more you drool over them. You always say does Gouda even count as cheese? Uncreative color and uncreative texture. No you don’t like Gouda. The only non-French cheese you can put up with is feta and cheddar. You can munch on them like a mouse. You remember when you were in France there was always this fancy cheese plate between the main courses and the dessert. Unlike most of your poor lactose-intolerant friends you had no problems at all. You didn’t even need baguette or red wine to go with the cheese plate. Roquefort and camembert were a must, if it was a special occasion you got Mont d’Or, or even Maroilles when you were traveling in the North.

Outside France you were still choosey in terms of cheese. You went to the supermarket hunting for good cheese but they seemed boring. The Allgäu disappointed you and you forgot it in the corner of your fridge. When you finally thought of it and fished it out from the fridge it was already old and dry. You took a bite and frowned: this not only looks like sponge, it actually tastes like sponge! You got rid of the old cheese and started doing the dishes. The sponge was dry. It looked kind of like an old flat piece of cheese. You rinsed the sponge and started scrubbing the plates. Bubbles popped out with detergent. You were washing with bare hands and the cold water and bubbles pierced your already rough hands. The rinsed sponge turned soft, and your hands had an even  rougher texture in comparison.

You turned around and saw your roommate. “Does it ever occur to you that dry sponge looks a bit like cheese?” ‘Nope,’ said she. ‘I don’t care for cheese and do you have to relate everything with food? You just had your dinner.’ You shrugged, and kept on doing your dishes. ‘I am glad you got rid of the cheese though. Our fridge stinks.’ You formed an apologetic smile and promised you would take out the trash today. Your roommate proceeded to her room; you finished the dishes, put the sponge near the sink to dry itself. “I still think dry sponge looks a bit like cheese.” You said to yourself. Nobody in the kitchen, you walked slowly back to the room with your rough hands still slightly hurt from the stimulation of detergent.