I remember thinking my Mom was the hardest-working person I had ever met. She made sure the house was always neat and clean. The downstairs got cleaned on Fridays and the upstairs on Thursdays. When the house was in the least bit faded, Mom painted the living room and other rooms by herself. When I was little, my Dad wore starched white dress shirts. Daily. Mom would sprinkle them and keep them in the fridge so they wouldn’t mildew. Then every week, she would iron these shirts until they were perfect.