There is a very specific kind of satisfaction that comes from looking down at a freshly mopped, gleaming floor. The house smells clean, the dust bunnies are banished, and everything feels right in the world. But then, you look down at your mop bucket, and your heart sinks. Staring back at you is a gallon of gray, gritty, murky water.
You carry it to the bathroom, and suddenly, you are faced with a great household dilemma: Do I dump this in the toilet or the bathtub?
At 73, living alone, I have realized that the little daily chores are where we either protect our peace of mind or invite unnecessary stress. Standing in the bathroom holding a heavy bucket of dirty water, worrying about making a mess, is enough to spike anyone’s blood pressure. Since I am incredibly proactive about my cardiovascular health—keeping a close eye on my circulation, watching
