While I was coming back from lunch today, the power went out, an event which is usually not worth writing about. Like most other people, I sat around outside, ate my tostada, and waited to see if I’d be lucky enough to be able to head home and make up for the sleep lost to insomnia last night. Then it hit me – my car keys were still in my cubicle, twelve floors up. As usual, God was playing games with me. After an hour of waiting for the power to return I figured the boss could no longer complain if I left, so after borrowing a flashlight (all of the emergency lights failed and the stairwells were pitch black), I trekked up twelve hot and stuffy flights of stairs, providing entertainment to those folks still coming down, each of whom felt it necessary to laugh like a jolly fat man when told that I had left my keys in the office during lunch. Little did I realize that the gods wouldn’t think humiliation was enough, and that only by turning the power on literally seconds after I opened the door from the twelfth floor staircase would they be satisfied.
It’s not easy being amusement for the gods, but I suppose someone has to do it.