Mice dance into my dungeon while the kitchen sponge suffers microwavization

This may seem very far off topic--predominantly I write on here about US politics and foreign policy, with some sporadic bursts of music and murmuring sports-related banter--but here's an interesting nugget of health information from the BBC.

Sponges and dishcloths are a common source of pathogens which cause food poisoning because the bacteria and viruses, which come from uncooked eggs, meat and vegetables, thrive in the damp conditions.

It has been estimated that a kitchen sponge may contain 10,000 bacteria, including E. coli and salmonella, per square inch.

As I sit here, my sponge at home sitting on its perch above the sink on the counter and its approximated 240,000 bacteria are hanging out. That, along with the horde of mice that parade through my house leaving little droppings in the kitchen drawers and in piles on my roommate's futon when we're not home and scamper through the walls, out of sight when we hunt for them, is worrisome. It's beyond worrisome, at least for anyone who takes the health and wellness of their body into account while living.

I'm not sick currently, as far as I know, but I'm going to take this advice:

Microwaving kitchen sponges for just two minutes can kill 99% of living pathogens, a US study in the Journal of Environmental Health claims.

Then again, I could probably stop into the convenience store that's on my way home this evening and buy a new sponge. But I can barely afford new Spanish books, or halfway decent-tasting beer, or pizza specially prepared for home freezing purposes--containing of course unsanitary amounts of sodium and other preservatives (the local Papa John's has 4.99 large one-topping Tuesdays so sometimes I give in; I'd hardly call that the healthy alternative to Tombstone).

So tonight I'm microwaving my sponge. And worrying more about germs in other areas of the house; the bathroom floor which happens to be sagging and sinking into the rafters below it that might be teeming with these microscopic creatures, or the basement with a moldy washing machine made in 1956 and all sorts of holes and cracks in the walls where I suspect the mice make spirited entrances into our duplex. I see them conga-lining in hawaiian shirts through the crumbling cinder blocks into the dusty, cobwebbed dungeon.

Tomorrow, maybe that guy who's supposed to fill in all the holes and cracks along the floors and around piping and in the walls will actually show up. Seeing mouse droppings in the pantry next to a burglarized bag of Jasmine rice is perhaps the worst that could happen to someone who tends not to like feeling they're about to puke.

Don't forget, only microwave damp sponges--and only for 2 minutes if you're doing it on high.