Not going up... or down either

When my friend Sam left our old work place at the Uni, I vowed that I wouldn't bother going back in there, but just see my friends who were still there out of work instead.
There was always a feeling of unease on the floor just before we started leaving, that you could no longer stand and have a quick catch up in case you got a black mark by the bosses, which was such a shame as old colleagues and ex students were always made welcome before.
This change is ironic really as we used to come under the pastoral banner, so call me old fashioned, but isn't caring about people that you had worked with for eleven years, kind of what is was all about?
Anyway, today I had to get a parcel to one of my friends there for tomorrow and I decided to bite the bullet and go into work and see her.
Big mistake, actually huge mistake!
Not because they quiet because they were worried about getting told off, as their whole department are leaving in one way or another soon, so they are all a bit indifferent about it all now, but because once again the lift wasn't working.
Every bloody time I go in there, which actually only amounts to about twice since my farewell do, the lift isn't working and believe it all not, the department on the second floor was aimed at disabled people.
Durr hello.
I walked up two floors with one of my friends pulling me up the last floor, because at that point I thought my head and lungs were going to blow up simultaneously. By the time I got my breath back enough to manage to walk through the door and speak, I was livid, I don't think I have ever said the word 'bleeding' as many times in one sentence as I did then!
I was furious. I wanted to say words a lot stronger, but I didn't want to damage the tender ears of any students who were up there.
One person said that she had checked to make sure there wasn't anyone coming in for an appointment using a wheelchair and they were supposed to fix the lift out of hours, but there are other walking disabilities that need help too and they are a drop in centre for all sorts of urgent needs and advice...tut tut... I feel a black mark against the building is in order.

As I said yesterday, there is always something that you have to battle against and of course today it was the lifts.
I'm sure my life was always a series of little challenges in the days pre-oxygen and I'm sure that I coped with them probably with as much shouting, though Ruth does think I have mellowed a considerable amount since she has known me and I actually do think she is correct, as what would normally have me frothing at the mouth, now seems to just get the word 'bleeding' or 'bally' as a show of my disapproval.
Writing this blog helps my stress levels a lot, as when I re read it, I think to myself 'I got upset about that, I am such an idiot?!'
I dare say it works a bit like the Mayan worry dolls that Reni and Oliver brought me back from Mexico. You tell them your worries every night and it helps you clear your mind so you get a better night's sleep. Mind you at the end of the first month, you could see the box quivering as I came near it and I'd find little worry dolls under the bed or behind the bedside cabinet, where they had jumped!
I do hope that you don't run out your room quivering when I have another rant?!
Sorry x I'm a nice person really, I promise.

Lots of love Debbie x