Punching My Buttons

I'm crippled today. Probably for a couple of days more, too. I'm suffering from gout, and before you snigger...it's the most painful shit you can EVER imagine. It's like having your feet set on fire! I'm wearing one of those adorable surgical shoes because I can't stand to have a real shoe touch my foot. And I'm limping. Slowly. Very, very slowly.

So, this morning, I enter the building right behind some yuppie chick. I can't stand yuppie chicks, but that's really not important to the story. Or maybe it is. Maybe I exude loathing. Anyway, it's about 7:00 a.m. Just the two of us. I shuffled ever so slowly through the lobby (a) because I have no choice and (b) because I wanted her to get on the elevator and get outa my way!

Unfortunately, the Elevator Gods were not with me, and the arrival of the next car was delayed until I finally made it up to the elevator bank. The arriving car was smack dab between the two of us. So, I start to hobble from the right, and she starts walking from the left. For some unknown reason, she apparently thought it would be rude to get in the elevator ahead of this poor, old crippled woman. So, she just STANDS there! It would have been really nice if she had gone ahead and gotten in the elevator and maybe held the door open for me, but no.... So, finally, she says impatiently, "Go ahead!" In a tone that really said "I'm WAITING for you, bitch - hurry up!" To which I replied, "I CAN'T!" (hobbling all the while). Of course, the elevator ran out of patience and closed. She got all huffy and punched the button again, causing the elevator to change its mind and stay, after all. This time, she boarded, and eventually I made it through the door, too.

She got off a floor ahead of me. "Have a nice day," she said, in a tone that really conveyed "I hope you fall down the elevator shaft, you old crone!"

Hurrying to make it into an elevator car that someone's holding open for me is one of my pet peeves, anyway. I hate the pressure! Sometimes my shoes are slippery, and the polished marble feels uncertain when I'm forced to hurry. Sometimes I know that the person holding the door has unpleasant body odor. Sometimes I know the people in there are the strange folks from another floor and I would just as soon wait. Sometimes I just want to be the hell alone! I know there will be another car soon. There always is. Just go on up to your floor, darlin'. I can call a car for myself. No big deal.

Feeling extra grumpy today. Maybe it's the flaming feet. Or maybe not.