Typically, I get home every evening around 10:30. Of course, I might waver a bit in that, but it’s a pretty good average for me. What’s nice about getting home late is that the elevator is always on the first floor waiting for me, as if it knows that I’m coming.
This evening, coming home from work, I definitely had to go to the bathroom the whole walk home. And, of course, when I got to my apartment, the elevator was ready and waiting for me…I wish! It was definitely on the fourth floor, where I needed to go. And I really had to pee, so waiting for the elevator to make its way down was almost like torture. But, seriously, I think that the elevator knows because the only other time I had to go really badly on my way home, the elevator was on the fourth floor then as well! It’s a bit ironic that out of the maybe three or four times that the elevator wasn’t ready to go, I desperately had to go to the bathroom two of those times. It makes a girl wonder whether or not the elevator really does know what I’m thinking.