Absurdity

The front desk area (informally known as the Pit) has three work stations enclosed by a ledge at elbow height, and the printer is located across the space from my desk (a distance of perhaps seven feet). When I first started working here, I would generally hop up and walk over to the printer to retrieve my documents. Then I started getting lax, and I'd simply roll my chair over, scooting with my feet to propel me. Now I've gotten very languid, and generally push off from my desk, roll over on the force of inertia, and push off for the return voyage. Yesterday I miscalculated the required force and drifted to a stop in the middle of the Pit, perilously stranded between desk and printer, with no desk surface nearby to shove off of. Fortunately I was wearing my Nextel, and I had to laugh at the ridiculous notion of radioing for help - 'Help, help! I'm stranded in the middle of the Pit and I need to be rescued!' It reminded me of the time Michael and I were at the airport traveling on one of those moving walkways, and we started speculating about what would happen if it broke down: fortunately the sides were made of glass, so we could easily signal for help if we became stranded. The mental picture of two hapless souls frantically waving for assistance from the midst of a stalled moving walkway was well worth a thousand words.