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Kevin was using a little bar of soap on Sunday to “make the windows work”, a project for which he offered no detail. I had provided the bar of soap from one of my travel stashes I collected from the hotel in California where I stay regularly.

A few days later it magically appeared on our bathroom sink. After a couple of days I asked him if it was there for a reason. He responded with: “It depends on what you want to do with it.”

Seriously? I didn’t put the grubby, sawdust-laden bar of soap on the sink, he did. I told him he is a master of deflection who can verbally wrap anyone around a tree. A lesser person would have accepted the transfer of responsibility for a bizarre hoarding of dirty soap to herself.

Fortunately, I have extensive experience with the Kevin school of “it’s you, not me” humor. I put it right back on him saying I simply provided the tool for his project and had relinquished ownership of the soap upon the hand off. Any subsequent activity with said soap was under his watch and ownership. I was very proud of myself!

Until he did an end run on me closing the debate with: “Well, the soap came from your travel pack. It’s yours.”

Game over.