much obliged

the last time i was badly clautrophobic was about a hundred years ago when i had locked myself in the cupboard. so this is what happened today morning. Y and i were dragging a cart with some stuff upstairs and chose, entirely by happenstance the oldest lift in the building. and halfway up, it stopped moving, the door came slightly open and there were strange creaking noises. we were slightly unsettled. so i called the emergency services, and they said that someone will be over. then the lift started moving down in small jerky steps. we were more than slightly unsettled at this point. i mean, being stuck in a lift is not terrible. there are things you can do, like count all the prime numbers slowly, stare at your fingernails, write that louvv letter which you should have sent, compose your own cenotaph, if you have pen and paper to write on it "I have just proved the Riemann Hypothesis but there isnt enough space to write it down". or something. i might stick with or something.