I don't normally take the lift, just on Mondays when I've got to carry my laptop. This morning, I ran a very boring meeting and at the end of it, when everyone else had quickly scarpered, I was carrying my laptop, notebook and propelling pencil back to my desk... via the lift.
The doors slid shut, daylight blinked out and I was left in the quiet metal box, waiting for it to whir into action. Nothing happened.
I'm tired I think. My subconscious mind wants me to sleep and getting stuck in a quiet metal box seemed ideal. Lifts are a bit like magic, I reckon - you get in somewhere, the doors close and then when they open again, you're somewhere completely different. Mind you, the same thing happens sometimes when I close my eyes.
Actually, it's more than subconscious: I'm really tired. I think I was actually asleep after I woke up this morning. I've got very little memory of how I got to work, got ready to leave or even how I got out of bed.*
I do remember seeing a sheet tied to a lamp post though as I ambled down the road. Someone had painted the words "Happy 21st Birthday Leanne" on it.
I don't know who Leanne is. However, it didn't take me long to work out that she would have been a toddler when I was at university. Time is gloopy.
As it happened, I didn't get stuck in the lift. It jolted to a stop on the ground floor and I went back to my desk, where everyone else had rushed out to the coffee van.
*I'd imagine that last one is the usual method: deep breath, throw off the duvet and jump straight to my feet growling 'I am a tiger' at my reflection in the mirror.
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