So, the elevator went out again.
Saturday afternoon I went downstairs without trouble (trash down, mail up). A bit later, Mom and I decided to get take-out for dinner, I placed the order, and when I went out to get it, oops, no elevator.
Sigh.
So I went down the five flights, got the food, came back and carried it up five flights, puff puff puff* (my lungs are second only to my knees in disliking that many stairs).
*"Puffing like a steam engine! His wind can't be very good." Name that movie.
I definitely did not go out on Sunday: there was nothing I wanted to do enough for those stairs. (Mom did go to the grocery store, and I thought she was crazy to do it, but hey, if she wanted to.) Monday, however, we had made appointments to have both cars in for service, so we went out early to drop the first one off, then home and climbed the stairs again. It was fixed by the time she went out midday to switch out the cars, and hopefully it will STAY fixed, ahem. If not, you can be sure I'll let you know.
Here, cute kitty photo to end on a better note.
Five stories. Yow. That's both great exercise and not fun at all.
ReplyDeleteWe lived in a building with an elevator when I broke my leg about a decade ago. We never really used it since we were on the second floor and our apartment was next to a side entrance. But when we got home with my new cast, we learned that the elevator was broken. And so it was that I had to do triceps dips all the way up the stairs three days post-surgery. I'll send stay fixed vibes to your elevator.
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