Upon seeing Alice’s dishcloths, I can’t help but think of the multitude of bacteria that must be present on them.
My relationship with Alice took an unexpected turn when I ended things at the age of 26, while she was just 23. Fast forward to now, at 62, we’ve rekindled our romance.
Reflecting on my past, I realize I misjudged her character. Our reconnection began last year when Alice shared some nostalgic photos of our time together on Facebook. It dawned on me how foolish I was to let her go. Since then, I’ve experienced three marriages, the last of which ended during the COVID pandemic.
Even with a six-hour time difference—me in Hong Kong and Alice in Zurich—we managed to engage in conversations lasting up to eight hours daily until her visit in January 2025. When she arrived, my Pomeranian joyfully dashed up the hill to greet her, and I thought to myself, “This is going to be a great time.”
Our two weeks together were filled with joy, and we both shed tears when it was time for her to leave. In March of this year, I made the decision to move to Zurich to be with her. I feel incredibly fortunate and content, yet I have strong aversions to her dishcloths and the manner in which she maintains her sponges.
I have a low tolerance for unclean items near the sink, and Alice often leaves wet sponges there for weeks at a time. The thought of the bacteria they harbor bothers me greatly. Additionally, she doesn’t wash her dishcloths regularly.
During my time in Hong Kong, I maintained three sets of sponges and dishcloths: one spare, one in use, and one drying after laundering. I had a domestic helper who ensured they were washed and bleached regularly.
When I see Alice’s dishcloths, they evoke images of bacteria thriving on them, resembling petri dishes. I had the urge to wash them upon moving in, but she declined my request for reasons unknown.
After two weeks in her home, Alice gifted me a cheerful sponge with a holder to help ease my concerns. I appreciated her gesture; however, one of those unsightly dishcloths resurfaced, and I’m desperate to dispose of it.
By some twist of fate or karma, we found our way back to each other. My mental health has not been in the best shape, and Alice has been a pillar of support during challenging times, which I genuinely value. All I wish for is to eliminate her dirty dishcloths from our living space.
Charles, on the other hand, prefers to discard dishcloths immediately after use rather than clean them. Although I use them to wipe surfaces and hang them on the tap afterward, he opts for a new one each time, which seems unnecessary to me.
This preference hadn’t crossed my mind much before Charles moved in. Though I possess a dishwasher and seldom utilize sponges, I recently bought him a sponge that comes with its own drying holder, which he appreciated. However, his time in my home has been brief.
I don’t recall our living situation from my 20s since it was a short-lived relationship. I enjoy solitude and can comfortably spend days alone. Since my marriage ended in 2018, I have remained single. Charles enjoys conversation, but I haven’t felt the need to put on headphones since he moved in.
While I can compromise—like tolerating his dirty ashtrays in the garden, which I find even more bothersome than a dirty dishcloth—we generally get along well. We have had a few disagreements, but we’ve committed to being open with each other. I tend to withdraw when discussing emotions, while Charles is more expressive, and this creates a balance between us.
I wouldn’t have invited Charles to move in if I weren’t confident in our compatibility. Both of us have adult children, and had we stayed together years ago, we might not be where we are now. I bought my first home, got married, and had a daughter, while Charles has six kids and lived in various tax-friendly regions. I’m a homebody, and had we remained together previously, I might not have pursued my career. It just wouldn’t have worked.
As for the dishcloths, perhaps we could consider soaking them in a diluted bleach solution, but that task will have to fall on Charles—I have no intention of doing it myself.
I believe Alice deserves more respect regarding her lifestyle, as Charles has integrated into her world rather than the other way around. Coexisting requires compromise. If the dishcloths disturb him so much, he should take the initiative to wash them.
What is Alice’s aversion to washing dishcloths? I find them useful for cleaning surfaces, and there’s no justification for not throwing them in the wash before they become unsanitary. However, if Charles wants Alice to clean her dishcloths, he should probably take care of his ashtrays as well.
Finding a domestic rhythm takes time. One person’s dirty dishcloth could be another’s neglected ashtray. A mutual agreement regarding both items could certainly be reached between two individuals who are glad to have reunited. However, unclean dishcloths can be difficult to accept, even for those with cleaning assistance.
It appears that Charles has not made an effort to find a middle ground, whereas Alice has already compromised by managing his dirty ashtrays and purchasing him a new sponge. If the dishcloths are such a concern for him, he should offer to wash them and focus on enjoying their renewed relationship.
The notion that keyboards harbor more bacteria than toilet seats is disturbingly accurate and applies to dishcloths even more so. Alice, it’s time to either wash or replace them to ensure both your health and the health of your relationship.
In our online survey, we ask: should the old sponges be discarded? The poll will close on Wednesday, June 10, at 9 AM BST.
We also inquired about whether Amy has taken her opposition to plastics too far. The results were: 81% believe she is guilty, while 19% think she is innocent.
