Friday, May 06, 2016

I enjoyed the shiny fruits of my labours

Being mobility impaired—I can walk but it hurts and my knees sometimes feel they will split any second—I have to use lifts instead of stairs, even if going just a floor or two.

I also have my delicious cheek scar. 

As luck would have it the lift cars I've been taking of late are the ones I got lit up with LEDs, the luminescence significantly increased. So when I'm alone it's allowed me to turn to the mirrored back wall and rapidly inspect the stupid worry scar and worry whether to worry at it. 

Either that or I just stand there in the cold bright light and marvel that I got the fuckers fixed—and for the next ten years given projected lifespan of LEDs.

The downside of my fruits though has been the death of my one-man-lift shows. Whenever I was in a lift with someone and one of the lights was out I'd joke that it felt like we were in a first person shooter and we should get ready for the monster that would surely spawn in front of us upon the doors opening. It usually got a laugh and I'd sometimes shout as they left "Have a great day; I'm Mikey!"

I think 10 years of bright light is worth the sacrifice of the bit; comrades before chuckles.

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