Maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s the patriarchy? Probably because I have a very good Mother? But I can’t start the day, or go to sleep, with a messy kitchen. I need everything in its place, I need the dishwasher empty, 1/3 full or running, or nothing can begin, or end. If the the kitchen is in order, basically everything else can fall to shit but there are your gleaming stacks of plates, your counters like whitened teeth, your large spoons resting in their holder, all giving you the illusion of control that makes life easy. Easier? Easy-ish.