There is an escalator I go down every time I go to work. Today it wasn’t moving. The reason it wasn’t moving was because there was a woman at the bottom with the hem of her dress stuck in the steps.
Great. Now I have something else to be afraid of.
There is a bank I go to in DC where they always offer you a miniature candy bar when you visit the teller. Today, deep in a yearning for snacks on my way home from work, I think I actually said, “Oh thank God” out loud when the guy passed me a mini-Krackel.
In other escalator news, I have to go down and up this escalator every day that I go to work.
If you just stand on the thing, it takes 2 minutes and 45 seconds to travel from top to bottom or vice versa.
It’s kinda my nemesis.
When I started working, I would walk carefully down, gripping the side rail. Now I jog down. I hope when I inevitably take my fall that I am at least near the bottom.
I’m also working on jogging up the thing, although on Thank God for Krackel Days, I just stand on it. Sometimes I’ll read a chapter of a book as it carries me slowly up. My usual routine is to walk up about 2/3 of it, take a long rest, and then finish.
It’s a whole thing.
This isn’t about my commute, but I realized something the other day. It is almost exactly a year since I started working. I realized something else as well. Ever since I’ve started leaving the house to go to work, I haven’t had any long depressed stretches like I’d gotten used to.
Yeah, it’s been harder to fit in some of the things I want to do and I still don’t have perfect mental health and it turns out that people who have jobs actually DO sometimes get a case of the Mondays, but I’ve discovered that purpose and structure are really good for me.
So, hooray for jobs. And even commutes.