The Plunger Incident

Note: This is a story of neuroticness on both parts of husband and wife.
Josh and I love our little apartment. Not only does it have more storage shelves than any other squishy apartments I have seen, but it has an arched doorway. (I still geek out about that part.) It is in the basement of an old house, and has been recently (we think) remodeled. However, in all of the painting and carpet shampooing, the landlord must not have used the toilet. Had he used the toilet, he would have noticed a serious discrepancy between the flushing mechanism and the feces actually going down. So our toilet does not work sometimes. I am saying this so that anyone who reads this does not wonder about our health conditions.
Anyway, about a week after being married, I saw the plunger sitting patiently next to our bathroom drain. Confession: I have a germ-phobia of sorts. Don't touch public restrooms without a paper towel- that sort of thing. When I saw the potentially feces coated plunger in the very same place where I wash, I demanded an explanation from Josh. Slightly taken aback at my sudden burst of hostility, he simply said that his father had taught him to put the plunger in the tub after using it to prevent it from drying on the wooden cabinet surface under the bathroom sink, causing a stench. After a good fifteen minutes of my disgust, and his calm reassurance that I would not be touching the place where the plunger dried in the tub (it being right next to the drain), we came to a somewhat shakey compromise.
We would buy a gallon of ice cream, and once the ice cream was gone, we would use it for the plunger, thus avoiding both the stench from contaminated wood, and my developing an ulcer over the germs touching my epidermis. This was supposed to be the end of our debate. BUT as things go, it happened again...with slight variations.
This time I heard the tub running at an odd time of day. I opened the bathroom door to find Josh rinsing the plunger off under the running tub water. Nearly gagging, I left the scene of the crime. According to Josh, he was complying to my conditions. The plunger was not drying in the tub. It was only being rinsed off in the tub. He had a valid point. The discussion is still up in the air to this day, but I did learn two very valuable lessons:
1. Little compromises are wonderful. We both felt like we had accomplished something small, but good, with the ice cream bucket solution.
2. Most likely, there is an explanation.