I probably don't have to tell you that confessing to the dermatologist what had happened was rather embarrassing. She looked at me completely perplexed and said (point blank), "You can't lick knives." This is when I earnestly reminded her, "You don't understand. There was still peanut butter on it."
I clean when I'm angry. I clean when I'm anxious. I clean when I'm upset with the kids, my husband, or the fact that I missed the start of Nordstrom's half-yearly sale and the dress I wanted is sold out in my size. I clean a lot, but it isn't until I do what is typically called 'spring cleaning' that I start to feel better.