Cracks me up.

I feel like I've accomplished something in life.

So there's a chip in one of the steps in 1939, and today building maintenence finally got around to fixing it. Stopping in the middle, they left an orange construction cone duct taped to that part of the step so that people wouldn't step on it. However, the cone completely covered the chip, so it appeared to be just a random cone that some jackass had duct taped to the stairs.

This evening, three people on my hall independently asked me why I duct taped a cone to the stairs. They had no evidence that it was me, save their assumption that the only way a cone could have been duct taped to the steps was that Cindi Textor must have done it.

I have never been more proud of a conclusion drawn about me.