Looking at the face of death... or rather a door.

I'm back after work three 12 hour shifts in a row. Last night around 11pm, I was nearly crying to get out of there. It's my choice, but why does time have to go by so slow???

Literally crawling out of there last night, Aaron and I came home without the baby. My ex was nice enough to take him again for the night so that we could get some sleep and relax for a bit. And Darrell was asleep by the time we got out of work.

Two glasses of wine and the blue comedy tour is food for the soul.

Better news... I almost died.

Not really, but it felt that way and I will never take the middle elevator again.

I got in, the doors closed and they didn't open.

I didn't panic... until later. For some reason I just kept my calm, kinda huddled in a corner and waited for the security guard to come around. It's said that the elevators at my work are the oldest in the city.

What sucks is that I couldn't get a signal with my cell phone. There was a old rotary phone in the elevator, so I used that. But if it was plummeting or doing something funky, I couldn't call anyone to tell them my last wishes.

I got out fine, obviously. Late from my break, sent a message to my supervisor and then banged my head promptly on my desk.

Which this reminds me to adjust my will. Oh yes, I have a will. I believe everyone over the age of 18 should have one because we're not God and never know when we're going to kick the bucket. At least something saying "Mom I love you" or "Don't forget to feed the cat".

And.... to finish my bucket list.