I shall give you the run-down of my day.
I went to work this morning, per the usual, and not long into the day, I am forced to use the ladies' room in the hotel downstairs since the power is out in the one in the office (which is a treat, since the soap in the hotel bathroom smells oh so good). Upon returning to my desk I find an email in my inbox that says that the power will be off in the south side of the building for an indefinite time. Apparently, someone, a genius among men perhaps, managed to crash his car into a cement wall in the parking garage located in the basement of my office building, damaging the power grid and resulting in locational blackouts. While funny, it was nothing but an inconvenience at nine-thirty in the morning.
Not too much later, murmurs arise that we must shut down our computers as the power will be going off in the entire building in order to asses and possibly fix the damage done. Cutting my lifeline, I am reduced to dissecting the fashion choices of other people in my office with my nearby co-workers; or more accurately, trying to ignore these dissections while reading the newspaper. I honestly don't think a man who wears open-toed shoes anywhere there isn't sand beneath his feet has any right to tell another human being that the pleats on their pants are poorly placed or if a tone-on-tone combination of blues works. Let alone leather slide mules. And yet, I digress.
At around 10:15, roumors begin sprouting that the power will be out for longer than say, an hour, and that if it is going to be out for too long, they might let us go home. Rather than belabor the point, they let us go home. At 10:30, they made the announcement, and at 10:31, I had planned the rest of my previously unplanned day off.
I jaunted out of the office, down the street and into the Metro station to find the correct train waiting for me, got off at my stop to find the correct bus waiting for me, changed, got in my car and headed for Ikea.
What made this unplanned day so much better than the Saturday they robbed from me last week (short, short backstory on that: they made us come in last Saturday as a "team effort" to meet our common goal, even though we wasted most of Friday eating the Bloody-Accent-Faker's going away cake and drinking the congratulatory beer for meeting a secondary goal) is because a. I got up earlier than I would have ever dreamed to do just get stuff done on Saturday and b. Ikea was a ghosttown. I waltzed right in there and found that they didn't have what I was specifically in there for, but I was not disheartened. I managed to drop a $100 despite adversity.