Every time I step into the elevators at work, I fear for my life. Did you ever hear that story about the doctor who was going from one floor to another in a hospital and was stepping out of the elevator only to get his head severed off? Who knows if that is really true, but each time the elevator shakes uncontrollably at work, I picture this doctor. When the elevator is really having a bad day and convulsing out of control, I actually move very quickly out when it arrives at its destination, so that this doesn’t happen to me. Can you imagine the horror? I must say, my luck is pretty terrible (even though a bird did poop on my head, I still have not reaped the benefits of this). But I feel pretty damn lucky compared to that man. Each time I step out of the elevator now, I count my blessings.
the work elevators