Cleanliness is Next to Godliness

I was a sidekick to Moiya and David yesterday.  We were going to look at a Chevy Blazer for me, but on the way to that job, they had an hour’s cleaning to do at the church.  I asked Moiya how I could help.  She said you can clean the mirrors and I will clean the toilets.  Usually I take the second job. I was happy to have her assigning tasks.  This was my first time on task at the Salmon Arm Church and I was probably more excited to learn what was going on than I should have been.  I went right to the cloakroom to hang up my own coat. On arriving there I saw a box of clothes marked Lost & Found.  “Don’t  clean there -- that’s the lost and found.”

“It is not lost and found to me.  It is rummage sale.  I am looking for a fleece jacket to wear.  I am freezing.  This purple one will do.”

“Well, whom ever wears a sequined top when they come to clean the church?  No wonder you are cold.  I am going to take a picture of you cleaning the bathroom door handles looking like that.”

I started looking at the other items in the cloakroom.  A lovely triple combination out of which was sticking a note:  Don’t find me, because I am not lost.  Someone just doesn’t want their scriptures  at home Monday through Saturday – their Sunday-only-set is where they can find it.  Sitting at church.   A nice brief case was tucked back in the corner on the floor.  Another lost and found item, I thought.  Enjoying the freedom that a temporary church custodian has,  I was getting to go through all of the good stuff left on the hat rack.  Trying to identify whose briefcase I was searching I found a book called The Mormon Way of Doing Business: How Nine Western Boys Reached the Top of Corporate America.  I looked for the owner’s name on the title page.  I guess people out here don’t write their names in their books.  I skimmed a few pages, finding as interesting a statement about profanity as I have ever seen.  Something like, strictly speaking, for Mormons there is only one swear word. 

“What the *&(#@*”, I thought. I used to think  we had a whole list of them.  I wonder when that changed.

I followed Moiya who was pushing the member care-taking cart to the bathroom – toilet paper bouncing on the lower shelves, bottles of cleaner rattling on the top shelf.  “Look out for the speed bump,” she called back to me.

“Don’t worry, I am fine. Just lead me to the men’s bathroom .”

We scrubbed and cleaned, Moiya the bowls and me the mirrors, with her remarking that it doesn’t seem fair that the men have hand lotion in their bathrooms and the women don’t.    I didn’t care about that.  I was interested in the flush mechanism of the urinals – trying to see if they were automatic.  Dave came into the room  to show me how to get them to work because I was unsuccessful, asking if  I they might only work when facing YX chromosomes.  No, David told me, he thought they might need to have their batteries changed.  I was willing to learn how to do that but he said changing batteries is by contract only – even he can’t do it.  This is the same with light bulbs –- they need a licensed electrician.  

I changed my focus to other interests.   I picked up a Deseret New, looking at an article, the title of which was something like Infidelity in Women Increasing.  I remarked that we may be seeing the first step towards parity with men and women, which in this case may not be all that good a thing. Moiya said she didn’t know what was in the article but she would take it home and read it.

I wanted to know about snow removal, since there is a large parking lot – filled with slush right now.  David was telling me that the snow is ploughed by contract – the parking lot, but the members do the walks to the church. No law suits about heart attacks happening there, I wondered.  David laughed and said, there are law suits everywhere, I guess.

One hour’s work by three people – a lot of fun when done with Moiya and David.

 Arta