
The doors closed. I listened to the elevator music and identified it as a song from 1983. I remembered some of the lyrics. The pianist played nicely. I wondered if anyone ever stopped to notice that. It was musical, lyrical, not like a robot.
Wow, I'm admiring elevator music. What is wrong with me right now? I don't like elevators. I don't like the closed space. How come this thing isn't moving? What's taking so long. I'm going to be late for my appointment. As I stood there I felt uncomfortable. Hot and sweaty. I listened to another song. And another. My heart beat fast and I felt shaky. I really do hate elevators. How long have I been in here? Why isn't this thing moving? Oh no. Is it broken?
Well, something was broken, but it wasn't the elevator. I never pushed the button for my floor! Well, that explains why it wasn't moving. Blood sugar at the time? 52 mg/dl.
Is it really possible that I got in an elevator, forgot to press the button for the floor and instead stood there listening to elevator music and admiring the musicality? At 52, all things are possible. Except for rational thought. I trapped myself in an elevator! That has to be the craziest thing I've done while low.
Doh!
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