Handprints

Just as an aside before I regale you with my latest not-so-profound observation. Today on Facebook, The Ex turned up under the always helpful for stalkers section “People You Might Know”. And, as luck would have it, today is also his birthday. That universe…what a kidder.

And onward…

I actually had a second today where I wanted to focus on cleaning the apartment. This doesn’t happen very often, so I jumped on it when the motivation hit. I opened the blinds in the bedroom, which had to be a shock for the neighbors. Don’t worry, I was fully clothed (I don’t want to be sued for inflicting that kind of trauma on people), but the room doesn’t see natural light all that frequently. I was so annoyed because despite the fact that I rarely open the blinds, there were handprints on the window. So, being in an industrious mood, I set about cleaning the window. Imagine my surprise when I couldn’t clean off the handprints… because they were on the outside of the window.

Did I mention that I live on the top floor?

Yeah.

I’m just going to assume that one of the painters or tree trimmers who has been in the complex over the last few weeks had to touch the windows for a completely innocuous and non-creepy reason.

But this was not the first odd handprint moment of my day. The first one actually occurred in the elevator at work. It started innocently enough. There were a number of people in the elevator with me. Naturally, none of us were talking to each other, and we were all avoiding anything that might resemble eye contact.

Now, I’m creative with my avoidance techniques. Some people go straight for the floor numbers. It’s safe and somewhat useful. But it’s also completely predictable. Some people try to mix it up a little bit by staring at the floor.

I decided to throw them all by staring up at the mirrored ceiling. Just as I was enjoying my walk on the wild side, I noticed that it’s entirely possible that someone else had been enjoying a much wilder ride. Again, I’m sure there is a completely innocuous reason while two female (or at least feminine) handprints were on the mirrored ceiling of the elevator. Perhaps a very tall girl was stretching? Perhaps someone decided to get out in between floors by popping open the ceiling and climbing up the cables. Or…. Eh, only the security guard at the monitor knows for sure.

Handprints—one of today’s great mysteries.

Kate