Cat and Mouse

There are two options when leaving my gym on the way to my desk: the elevator or the stairs. The way I feel about these options is that I work hard at my workouts, so I deserve an elevator ride. I'm sure my crippling fear of stairs has nothing to do with this decision at all, no sir. My trainers, however, disagree. Jeff in particular likes to hop out at me when I'm least expecting it and make me take the stairs.

Last week after training, Laks and I were waiting for the elevator. I figured we were in the clear because Jeff had moved on to his next client while we were changing. Oh contraire! Through the closed door I heard Jeff say, "Hey, watch this!"

"Laks! Get the elevator!" I yelled while pushing against the door with all my might to keep Jeff in.

Just as my hold was slipping, the elevator arrived. "Go go!" I yelled to Laks, releasing my hold on the door and hurdling over to the elevator. Alas, I made it on only to have Jeff right on my heels, telling me to take the stairs.

Yesterday I gave in without too much of a fight. Today, after the usual slaughtering, I managed to elude him and take the ride up. It's totally a game of cat and mouse. Only the mouse (me) decided to gloat to the cat (Jeff) about her victory because she couldn't help herself. I'm sure I'll pay for it later.