Stress is like amphetamines for housewives, or at least for this accidental housewife. I've been on a DSM-IV worthy cleaning tear. I've moved past organizing the closets and cabinets and started scrubbing the walls and bleaching all the trashcans. Yesterday I took the top off the stove and drug it into the shower and scrubbed it until it said uncle. I don't know where the stress is coming from. Probably nothing. That's kinda where I live, so no need to worry. Before I do any self-examination, I'm gonna ride this wave until the floors beg for mercy.
On a related note, Max is beside himself. I cleaned out his treasure trove under the bed. He went all Little Mermaid on me and started talking about his "whosits and whatsits galore."
P.S. In response to my last post, my Mom said she needed to tell me the rest of the story. Maybe that will fill in some gaps : )