I live on the 13th floor.
I had a cold with lots of coughing and laryngitis for a couple of weeks We moved Dad's eye doctor appt to tomorrow as he wants me there with him. (I've met his eye doctor before. He needs an advocate with him. She has no patience for repeating herself or making sure he understands and he's 95, almost deaf, can't talk well because he can't get any power in his diaphragm to push the words out and has glaucoma.)
So, on Saturday I had all the (heavy) stuff he'd been having me
buy for him and... no elevator. Walked down. I came home a couple of hours earlier than usual because 12 flights is tiring. Good thing I did. I bought milk and had to walk up.
I was glad to find out that my stamina was okay. My problem is that I had moved very little while I was sick and my calfs are always tight. Sunday brought new meaning to the word. I spent the day massaging.
Monday I had to walk down because I had my monthly session with a trainer and it was the very end of the month. Whoopee! More stairs. And I moved an appointment today to Friday because muscle cramps or not, I have to go to Dad's tomorrow. So you can just imagine my joy when the elevators were back this afternoon.
Apparently a water main in a wall broke. The person who lives on one side of that wall said it was coming through the wall and, at one point, was up to her waist.