Flying Sponge

We have a small kitchen--a very small kitchen--but over our twenty-plus years in this house, Joyce and I have learned to ... adapt ... to ... accommodate ... each other.

Usually.

There remain times when both of us, simultaneously, want access to the fridge, the dinnerware drawer, the stove, the sink, one of our few cupboards, ...  You get it? We've also been known to bump into each other--always (?) an occasion for a self-conscious laugh--never any, uh, resentment!

In our narrow kitchen, the sink is on one side, some counter top on the other. Sometimes, using a sponge to wipe that particular counter top (after some baking or meal-prep), I, instead of turning around and walking the vast distance of three feet (?) back to the sink, will simply toss the sponge sink-ward.

Occasionally--no, rarely--it might fly by Joyce's head--or maybe once in twenty years, hit her in the back.

No biggie.

The other day, after such a toss (which barely missed her), she made a comment about a "flying sponge," and I replied, "Wouldn't that make a great children's book?"

We agreed. And quickly so--just as we (never) do about who-gets-what-part-of-the-kitchen.

And so I started thinking of story ideas: a sponge flies across a kitchen--it stays in the air--soars out an open window (we'll forget about the screen)--outside, still (miraculously) in the air, it's enlisted by other flung household items (newspapers, dog biscuits, dirty laundry, Kleenex, etc.) to go to battle against the Dark Side--and our sponge Saves the Day by ...

... I ain't tellin' you--don't want to share/give up my million-dollar idea. So ... let that soak in!