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.
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