Clean House Syndrome
Sara scrubbed and scrubbed. She stepped back to admire her handiwork. The tiles on the bathroom were shining. She was not very satisfied, it had to shine like a mirror, the woman had instructed. Sara kept going at it, scrubbing the tiles. A sharp shooting pain made her wince. She sat up to catch her breath, thinking, the pain will go away if she took a break. But the worm in her head kept egging her on, prodding her to keep scrubbing. The woman had gone on out, Sara had to clean the toilet before the woman returned. Else, the woman would not allow Sara to have her lunch. After half an hour, Sara stood up, carefully, holding her eight month old pregnant belly, and admired the tiles. They were shining. The woman would be thrilled. Sara was sure. The door bell rang. Sara walked carefully to let the woman in. The woman walked in and grumbled about the dirt on the shoe rack and threw her slippers inside the shoe rack, ensuring she dusted her footwear on the clean surface. She glared at