Clean slate, clean house

What is it about break-ups that instills the need to clean?   I was relentless; no corner was overlooked, no cobweb escaped my grasp.  While the faint sound of Dusty Springfield played in the living-room, I attacked the mildew encrusted shower walls, stainless steel fixtures shined with my countenance, and the smell of pine filled the house.
I can remember my mother doing the same when dad left one night.  Dressed in a heavy maroon robe, she knelt on a towel and scrubbed, muttering to herself soft insanities.

Current: Cloudy

I have been hit by many things...a baseball to the face when I was eight,  parental slaps of discipline in my teens, and a copy of Brave New World to the head when I was twenty,  but I have never felt the unsatisfying blow of reality. 
At twenty-nine, I would imagine this feeling be reoccurring, but it is unsteady and new.  Last Tuesday, my five year relationship ended.  The next day I contacted a psychic and the day after that I cried.  Aside from the latter, none of those things had ever happened to me.  I suppose the psychic was unnecessary but his insight and predictions seem valid,and honestly, I have always wanted to call one.  While I listened intently to what he said, his British accent and his guffaw for a laugh, I truly understood the alternatives to reality.
a) not having one   or     b) making up your own  
Uncertainty is a shaky boat I have been in before, but at least now I have a knowledge of how to steer it and how to swim if it goes under.  .