My Keys Got the Shaft

so i was hurriedly making my way to my office before the bell tolled 9 o'clock yesterday morning (i know- it's sad that i'm that ridiculously late every day pretty much) when my friend Catherine encountered some problems with a cart full of books on the elevator. I proceeded to help her by giving the cart a hefty shove. it was at that particular juncture that my keys (which were, indeed, perched precareously in the palm of my hand) took a dive for it. Catherine and I did that "Nooooooo" gasp thing and watched as they slipped poetically through the gap in the elevator door and went falling three floors down to the cavernous elevator shaft of death (thoughts of mcgiver- how would you spell that name? yeah- that one guy who did all those seemingly death-defying tricks with dental floss went through my head when i thought about how i might retrieve my keys if i had to do it on my own). at this point i went on what was to be a long trek to various offices (i think they did this on purpose) where i had to admit my idiotic mistake and tell the whole embarassing story. in short- 7 hours later the elevator repairman stopped the elevators and retrieved my rather nasty keys from the depths. and you thought the life of an archivist was boring- HA! as if!