cleaning power

When all else fails, I clean. It's just the way I was born. Here's an early story: My mother put me down for my daily nap five days in a row. Each time she placed a pacifier in my crib, and left the room. When I woke up, each time the pacifier was gone.....like a magic trick....poof. She says she looked everywhere each of those five days and could not imagine what had happened to those pacifiers.

On the sixth day my mother put me down for a nap and went out to weed the front yard flower bed which happened to be under the window where I was fast asleep. My mother, a rather tall woman, discovered the mystery before kneeling down to weed. My pacifiers were lined up in the window seal in a neat row. It seems I could not take a nap with things littering my crib. From then on the jokes have flourished about my cleaning habits.

Through the years I have become a lot more lax.....at least by my standards. Yet, when stress visits me I clean. Why?

Because a sink, toilet, or floor can not talk back! I have complete power when I am cleaning. When I put a glass in the dishwasher it stays there until it is clean.