There are two elevators in the main lobby of Terwilliger Plaza. One goes to the roof. One goes only to the top residential floor.
So, now that my tomato plant is producing, I frequently need to get to the roof. Earlier today, I stood at the elevator doors on the sixth floor waiting for transport. The wrong elevator came. I stood back, let the doors close, counted to 10, and pressed the call button again. The wrong elevator came again, this time with people in it who looked quizzically at me as the doors closed.
Now I was embarrassed. I know I can't climb the six floors of stairs, plus the flight to the roof. Well, OK, I could, but my knees would explain my error to me all day tomorrow.
I pressed the call button again. The wrong elevator came again. And then I had the "Eureka!" moment. I may not be able to climb seven stories, but I can certainly climb one. So I took the wrong elevator to the 12th floor and the stairs to the roof. Not only did I get healthful, nourishing, delicious tomatoes for my lunch, I got one more floor of stair climbing than I would have otherwise, plus I got that smug sense of accomplishment I get when an idea from outside the box manages to make its way into my head.
So now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to go wash and cut my tomatoes, slosh them with some balsamic vinaigrette, and have lunch, with a side dish of self-satisfaction.