I run a small cleaning business. I love it. I take pride in my work and would believe that there is no one alive who can clean quite as well as I do, nor do it half as artistically (I feel there is great art in my methodology). I adore most of my clients, and the ones who I don't like all that much I still find fascinating story fodder. And so, bad reviews wound my pride. Unhappy clients make me cry. And really mean clients . . . ah, but then it really isn't those specific clients that make me feel awful, but all the things going on in life besides, and somehow this outward thing is what allows me to break. It's never the work that we truly hate or love, after all. It's everything else. I'm not sure what was going on that day, but my spirit was already in a frazzled state. One moment I was laughing, confidently entertaining a bunch of people. The next moment I was looking for some small corner to hide away in for just a few moments, to breathe, to close m...