I’ve begun Week Two of my no-elevator lifestyle. I’m doing this for exercise and because of a complete lack of trust in the elevators in my workplace (the stories I’ve heard…). You’d think it would be the walk up to the 22nd floor, not the walk down, that would be the bigger struggle. You’d be right. I’m starting to notice the little things: the piece of discarded gum between 17 and 18 in Stairway 2 (I used to consciously avoid it, so as not to ruin my soles. Now, the gum is so hardened and embedded in the stair that I can laugh it off and step on it confidently); the fact that there are 16 steps per floor on office floors and only 14 on the parking floors; and the comparative loneliness of Stairway 3 compared to #2 (people must be scared by the “Alarm Will Sound” sign; I know better). Careful readers may remember my previous vow to exclusively take the stairs in favor of the elevators. I may really mean it this time.
My promised trip to the ocean this weekend was derailed by the slightly too-cool beach temperatures. Instead, I was as lazy as a lazy man could ever be. Sure, there was the movie and the other movie and the folding of laundry. But other than that, I hardly moved a muscle.
My favorite 5 songs of the moment:
Chicago – Sufjan Stevens
Multitude of Casualties – The Hold Steady (only rock song ever to reference dryer sheets)
Circles – Soul Coughing (my definition of “of the moment” is pliable)
When Smokey Sings – ABC (heard it at Trader Joe’s)
My Doorbell – White Stripes
Two good links: An interview with America’s finest poet. And a touching essay by The Aristocrats' scariest contributor.
5 comments:
When a nice exchange student girl propose marriage, you so rude not to answer. Do you need another wife? I like to be your extra wife.
-Linglo (I pretty)
If it is intention to upset sweet pretty exchange student girl, you have succeed. I loyal blog reader from beginning and pretty and make all thing shiny. At least you can say yes or no, so I let my breath out. In my country we say "hurrur" for yes and "nayoor" for no. We have no word for maybe.
-Linglo
Do they have restraining orders in your country?
It is a striking photo. I can understand how Linglo could be so drawn to you. A fine, noble forehead. Broad shoulders. Dashing fauxhawk. Add to that your command of language and remarkable set of lists, and how can you blame her for wanting to make some claim on your affections? Would you criticize a cat for liking catnip?
I love stairwells. I've had long-term relationships with many of them. Little things getting under your skin: how long will that penny remain unpicked, what famous dictator does that stain resemble, is it breathe in through the nose out through the mouth or vice versa i should know this by now, if I play my saxophone just right the walls resonate loudly, hmm that guy there hasn't moved for three days thought I just put him to sleep... twenty-two floors is a who lotta steppin'! You do that every day? Don't strain yourself, pancho. The building in which I dawdle on the six-hundred and sixty-sixth floor locks the doors to the stairwell on all but the first and second floors! It's unfair-- feel like I'm missing a vertiginous lover. In China, building regulations require elevators only if a building has more than five floors. I'm not sure then if the elevators BEGIN on the first or fifth floors, but it doesn't matter I've got to go clean my reed.
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