Ah! behind you, on the other side of the room, at your desk, is the chair you were using last night for paper work, one of the spinning ones.
You waddle over clumsily (it was going to take some getting used to) to the other side of the looming chair and begin wheeling it along like a shopping cart, noticing in your mirror the rather obvious emperor penguin waddling along with an office chair, not a common sight around the house.
After an excruciatingly long time you get back to the door. The chair is at the perfect hight and you heave your heavy body onto it. On your tummy you feel oddly comfortable due to the thick skin ('blubber?', you think to yourself) on your front side.
And... bingo!
You manage to turn the handle with your tiny, clawed left foot with your beak pressed up against the door and it cracks open. You fall clumsily onto the hallway carpet from leaning onto the door too hard and get up, wincing* The rooms in your tiny London apartment lay around you.
*I am aware penguins don't have very expressive faces nor mouths. Nonetheless, you try.
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