I woke one morning to find my chaotic kitchen completely spotless. The dishes were washed, the counters shining, and the floor—previously sticky from spilled chocolate milk—looked freshly cleaned. I stood frozen in the doorway, baffled. As a single mother to two young children, I was used to exhaustion, clutter, and the daily juggle of freelance work and parenting. Jeremy, five, and Sophie, three, were too small to reach the sink, let alone transform the kitchen overnight. At first, I convinced myself I must have done it half-asleep after finishing a late-night report. But when groceries I never bought appeared in the fridge days later—eggs, bread, apples—I felt a knot of unease. No one had a key to my house, and my faraway parents certainly weren’t sneaking in to help. Each morning brought a new mystery: the trash taken out, sticky spots wiped away, the coffee maker cleaned. I began wondering if stress was making me forget entire tasks.Continue reading…
