Cleaning checks are just that: your RA checks that your apartment is clean. You are assigned jobs to clean your dorm, you all do them, and then the RA comes and makes sure you did them. It's like being audited on your living space. It's stressful. Plus, you have to clean up after other people. (It does balance out, because they're also cleaning up after you, but still.)
My jobs this time were fairly simple:
Because you can totally read this.
Sometimes you get lucky. But then again, sometimes your jobs are awful. The worst jobs are probably:
Showers. You have to scrub them, including the walls and floor. Your roommates' butts could have touched the wall. And all their collective filth has washed down the drain you are now spit-shining. It's like getting up-close and personal with filthy, naked bodies. Gross.
Oven. It's not actually that bad, but you have to plan ahead. And it stinks. Literally, the self-cleaning feature smells so bad. Like you are incinerating a whole chicken. Feathers and all.
Toilets. Even if they look clean, it's the thought. More butts. Gag me with a toilet brush.
Fridge. You get to organize it, which is pretty fun... But you run into some nasty nasts in the bad of some of them there shelves. One time, I found this spaghetti sauce that no one even remembered. It was green and growing up the sides of the Tupperware. Shantel poked it and said it was fuzzy.
Mopping. I don't know what it is, but I HATE mopping. It doesn't matter if the floor is barely dirty. It just feels so futile and primeval to me to stick a stick in a bucket and then push it around the floor. I'm like a cavewoman sweeping her dirt rug. Aren't I just spreading germs and dirt when I do this? Maybe it only looks clean because the filth is evenly distributed.
There is no way that stanky thang can get anything clean.
The best jobs (they're the best):
Closets. All you do is organize the stuff on the shelf. There is no mold, dirty mops, or trash. You just take clean stuff and shuffle it around so it looks pretty. It's like flower arranging, but with linens.
You can also take a break to pile all the boxes in the storage closet in front of Hannah's door, successfully trapping her inside. Hilarity will ensue.
Windows/mirrors. Awesome. All you need is Windex and a paper towel. You can see your progress. And when you're done, it's so shiny and sparkly and beautiful... You just want to touch it. So you do, and then it gets a fingerprint, and then you get to do it all over again. It's like a wonderful cycle of joy and insanity.
Maybe I just love this job because of the shiny things. Some people say I have ADOS. ("What's ADOS?") Attention deficit--Ooo! Shiny!
Cleaning checks bring an interesting juxtaposition of emotion. It feels so good to be clean, but at the same time, it sort of looks like no one lives there. You want it to be done and over so you can get back to actually living, but then again, you want to just sit there and admire the fabulous job you've done. It's disgusting while it lasts, but so refreshing once you've completed your chores. It's like spring cleaning, every month.
If I were in charge, I would run cleaning check one of two ways. One, like a hotel. Once a month, a cleaning crew would come in and change the linens, mop and vacuum, clean the mirrors, and replace the little soaps and toilet paper (which would be much appreciated, as we ran out the other day...).
Or, number two, we could just do like on that clown show, The Big Comfy Couch, and do the Ten Second Tidy. (If you don't know what that is, go watch this.) We'd have theme music and say ready, set, go! and run around like manic clowns. And whoever cleaned up the most would get a donut.
I would clean up for one of these babies. Bring on the cardiovascular poisoning, suckers.
I think it would work really well. Maybe I'll have to test this on my roommates in January...
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