I have a very strong desire to pull the fire alarm.

No, I’m not reflecting on a moment from my mis-spent youth. In fact, I was a great kid if not the perfect child. In grammar school I was on the honor roll, I sold Girl Scout cookies in abundance and I took ballet classes three times a week. In high school—I held down a job every summer, never snuck out of the house, and earned the nickname “Sister Rebecca” for my uncommon, moral, teenage ways. I hardly ever did anything “bad” and if I did make the slightest misstep I instantly felt the harsh pangs of Catholic guilt guaranteeing that I would never make the same mistake twice.

But at this very moment, as I sit writing this post, minding my own business, I really want to pull the fire alarm on the wall next to me. It is just begging me to do it. “Pull Fire Alarm” it reads in bold white letters. As if to say, “I double dog dare you.”

It reminds me of the time while quietly sitting on the sofa watching TV with my husband, he looked over at me with loving, kind eyes and said, “I really want to hit you with a pillow.”

What the…?

And then he started to laugh. And then I hit him with a pillow, and I started to laugh.

I don’t know what brings on these spontaneous urges to do something a little naughty. Maybe it’s for a quick adrenaline rush or maybe it’s to recapture the frivolity of youth. In college, we started playing pranks on one another until it got a bit out of hand. Chicken feet from the local dim sum restaurant were dangled from a car bumper (I honestly don’t remember why)‚ cans of peas overflowed a mail box, and my roommate’s “boyfriend’s” car was completely covered with new sod from an unsuspecting neighbor’s house—complete with a flower sprouting out of the hood. There were many more alcohol-induced pranks, but these are some of the ones that I feel most comfortable sharing at the moment.

Now I’m not condoning breaking the law, damaging property or sending hundreds of people running in a panic from a non-existent fire. Remember, I am “Sister Rebecca” after all. But, I see no harm in letting off a little steam with a harmless prank or two.

So be forewarned. If you come home from work tonight and find the crazy-looking blue ceramic chicken that I made in college on your doorstep, just smile and know that it’s just me sending you a fun little message. Tag, you’re it!