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For me, the tyrant "Clean" has a changing face. First bedsit in London's Shepherds Bush had mushrooms heaving through the bathroom floor and mice nesting in the oven. No problem. Paranoia set in with birth of two children: conflict of letting them play with anything they wanted, but cleaning their hands constantly. Now at 52, my teenage daughter has taught me again "what doesn't kill me makes me stronger" and I'm happily ignoring household demands...you probably wouldn't want my address. |
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