Longer Baths …

It's Saturday night. It feels like a Sunday in some way.

'It is Sunday, Bromford Bibble!' the llama shouts up from the elevator shaft. 'What did you do yesterday? Why did you forget the blog post?'

The llama is taking a bath on the roof of the elevator cabin deep down in the apartment building of 666 Whitaker Lane in Bromford, the friendly town by the shore and seaside. What kind of bath it is I don't. It can hardly be a sunbath down there in the dark, can it?

'Bromford, you dimple! There is always a light at the end of every tunnel. Or better a light at the end of this shaft. Or is it the beginning of this shaft?'

Is the animal reading my mind again?

'Of course I am taking a sunbath, human!' the llama shouts. 'Look up, Bromford Bibble! Look up! There is a glass ceiling and roof on top of the elevator shaft. I wish you could see and feel the sunbeams tickle and warm my fantastic brown fur. Makes it shiney and smooth.'

The even-toed ungulate must be kidding me. Even if there was a a glass roof on this shaft no sunbeam would have been so strong as to reach that far down. And it was still - well a very warm one - but still a grey Sunday winter noon with a very cloudy sky. No sun at the moment.

'You know what, animal?' I shout from my armchair in the living from with a cup of green tea in one hand. 'I am so very glad that Mario or Luigi our janitor or concierge will come tomorrow and cut you out of there!'

'Darn it, Dimple-Bibble!'

Today is Sunday, the 19th of January 2020.

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