If I ever had any doubts before, I know now for sure that the elevator in my building hates me. Tonight was my night off and, per usual, I was partaking in that old delightful pasttime of, well, laundry.
I step into the elevator and press the button indicating basement. The elevators doors close, there is a pause in which the elevator does not move, and the doors open again. I do not panic, for this elevator has acted up before. I hold the “close door” button as the doors close again (this always works). There is a pause and the doors open. I try holding the basement button *and* the close door button together. The doors close. The doors open. I step out of the elevator and (while holding the door open) check the button outside thinking that perhaps there is a small elf or somesuch that keeps running out and pushing the elevator call button as a sort of prank (or maybe the button is just stuck). The outside call button seems fine. I step back into the elevator and press the basement button again. The doors close. The doors open.
I give up, proclaim the elevator to be broken, and head for the stairs. As I reach for the stairwell doorknob, the elevator doors close and I hear it descend to the basement. Thanks for nothing, you stupid elevator you.
On a completely random note, Tim and I have booked ourselves for a 4-night cruise to the Bahamas this January. No, seriously. We’d been talking about going somewhere tropical this winter and the cruise turned out to be amazingly affordable. We are both pretty dang excited.