Cleaning Inspection

We were a day away from the white glove inspection of doom at the MTC, meaning someone was going to come in a make sure the buildings had a celestial sparkle emanating off everything from the chalk tray to the toilet seat.  My boss made it clear that if we failed, we would lose all rights to our firstborn, our church membership, and most importantly, our Pop Tart fiestas.

Consequently, I was in Soviet Russia Cleaning Mode.  Every doorknob was polished.  Twice.  We blasted acid on every surface in the bathroom and scrubbed it with three different brushes.  I made the elders clean the black marks on the stairs and bathroom stalls with a toothbrush.  I was the most hard core cleaner I had ever seen.

This had varying effects on my emotional stability, especially when compounded with my general irrationality in the early morning.  One minute I was a super stellar awesome cleaner tackling one carpet stain after the other, the next I randomly burst into tears because I couldn't remember how to sweep.  I hadn't felt so conflicted since Prince William went off the market.

I was alone in the custodial closet, trying to gather my many varied emotions.

Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with an irrational desire to prove to the world that I WAS A CUSTODIAN!!!  I would pass the inspection and make pancakes to celebrate!  I grabbed the duster and wiped everything.  I cleaned what no one had thought to clean before.  I swiped the top of the bulletin board, each of the chemical containers, the light box, the mop handle . . .

. . . And then the fire alarm went off.

It was 9:30, so all the missionaries and teachers were in their classrooms by then, and everyone had to evacuate.

Missionaries: What happened, Sister Perkins?

Me:  I don't know.  I guess some idiot pulled the fire alarm. 

It was just irritating.  How dare they interrupt my work and dirty my newly polished door handles.

Finally the police showed up and swept through the building.  "It originated in the second floor custodial closet," they told my boss.

I guffawed audibly.  "You've GOT to be kidding me.  I was just in there and there was definitely not a fire."

They turned to me slowly.  I was suddenly aware of the fact that they were armed.  "Sister Perkins.  What chemicals were you mixing?"

Apparently the smoke detector was too close to the light I dusted, and when I thwacked it with the duster it triggered the alarm.  After I proved my innocence, we were let back in.

Missionaries: Sister Perkins, do you know what happened now?

Me: Go back to class, Elders.  You should be focusing on other things.

And that is how I single handedly set off the fire alarm and evacuated an entire building in the MTC.