Slish-slug… Slish-slug…
Slish-slug…
I heard odd noises as the elevator doors closed. They were
slow ratcheting noises. I do not find odd elevator noises comforting—especially
when the doors are closing at the same moment I realize neither my work cell phone
nor my private iPhone are with me—they remained on my desk.
The hair on the back of my neck rose up a fraction as I
looked around the empty box. Attempting to reassure myself, I told myself the odd noises didn’t mean the
elevator was experiencing problems—but even if I did get trapped in the
elevator, I was on my way to a late lunch, so I had my book and the remaining half of my
third DDP (Diet Dr Pepper) in hand. What
more could I want? In fact, without a way for everyone to contact me, it might
even be relaxing and peaceful.
Only, I was down to the last five pages of my book. Optimistically,
I hoped five pages would be enough to last through lunch. Realistically, I knew
they would not last through a protracted solitary confinement. Of course, behind the remaining five pages, is
the preview for another book....but I was loath to start the preview since I didn't
have that particular book in my "To Read" stacks.
You didn't think libraries were the only ones with stacks of
unread reading material lying around did you? Okay, so my stacks are not exactly
like the stacks at the library, but that's a minor point.
Anyway, the mental image of my stacks reminded me I need to
grab two books from my stacks tonight—I
also finished my bedtime book last night.
Clink.
The elevator doors locked as it prepared for our descent
into the basement. The sound of finality
reminded me, in a day or so, I’ll also finish
the audio books I checked out from the library, so I need to check out another
half dozen or so. It was odd I was
finishing all my books at once—normally, the end on a staggered time line. This group evidentially did not get the memo.
Groan. Sigh.
The elevator sounded tired.
Isn’t this one of the newly
replaced elevators? Or was this elevator merely reworked? I feared it was
the latter since it was not a main elevator. However, the marble floors gleamed and the softly muted
wall color was relaxing. Perhaps this is the
color I should paint my bedroom walls….If I ever get out of here. How long
would it be before any one missed me? My
tummy tightened as I realized I could be sealed away from the rest of the
world. Forever.
My minds ear heard Mr. Rogers gently asking, "Can
anyone say, 'Melodramatic' boys and
girls?"
My nervous titer bounced off the elevator walls. Squaring my shoulders, I pragmatically
reminded myself of the phone in the elevator—a phone I had used before when the
elevator actually had gone on strike
for a short while. The elevator continued to mosey along at the speed of
winter-time molasses. Even with my bad knees
and extra stiffness I thought I could
have made better time hobbling down the two flights of stairs. Maybe not. I
guess it could be worse—the elevator could be out of control and plummeting to
our final destination.
Shudder. Clank. Whew.
The elevator rested.
Finally. It took its time, then gathered
it's courage, and ever so slowly it reverse ratcheted its doors open and
released me.
Laughing, I exited the elevator and breathed sigh of relief.
I’m not sure, but I think my exhalation rivaled the whew of the elevator. Once again my over active imagination had gotten
the best of me—kind of like my over active bladder—which was kicking in right
about then.
That's not quite true.
My bladder’s not over active. It’s diuretic
enhanced—and it was telling me it had been a while since I had been to the
LGR. Luckily there was one nearby. I
darted into the stall, threw my DDP and book onto a shallow ledge, slid the
door lock to the closed position, and once again sighed with relief.
Until I remembered the lock on this particular stall
sometimes sticks. In almost ten years, I
can count the number of other people I’ve encountered using this bathroom at
the same time as I have, on one hand. I
guess I tend to use remote elevators and bathrooms.
Oh well. I still have my half DDP and five pages to while
away the time—and an added bonus—now I have a throne on which to sit.
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