Moved it when I wasn’t looking

The freight elevator is, I think, on the fifth floor, or at least it’s supposed to be. 

But when I get there climbing the stairs, my legs’ complaints a low grumble at this point, there’s no elevator. 

Now I have to check every floor, so I sigh, and trudge down, popping my head around the corner on each floor to check if the heavy metal door is open. 

Until I get to my floor, my knees and hips starting to sound like a chorus of huskies about to howl, and find the elevator, just waiting there, open, mocking me.

If Not Me, Then Who?

“I hate being that guy…,” I say as I get in the shower. 

Katie continues washing her face, but indicates with her expression that I should go on.

“… but in the book, there’s typos,” I finish, referring to a chapbook of our friend’s poetry.

“No you should be that guy,” Katie says decisively.

Debatable

We turn on the Vice Presidential debate, and get about sixteen minutes into it before we agree we are not having a good time, bro. 

A few minutes after we’ve turned it off, Katie stands over me with her first two fingers pressed to her throat.

“I can’t stand watching people arguing,” she says fiercely, “and I can’t get my blood pressure to go down.”

“It’s just so inauthentic,” I whine.

Reckless Disregard

I broke the lid of the toilet seat (don’t ask) but because of Katie’s work we have a LOT of adhesives in this house, so she fixed it.

“I know you like to jump up on the toilet seat in the morning,” Katie admonished the cat as she put the newly repaired lid in a spare room to cure, “but if you do it tomorrow you’ll end up in the drink.”

“Maybe we should cover it?” I muttered to myself.

“No.”