On Friday, the most magical thing happened to me.
Magical like unicorns. Like leprechauns and Imaginationland and psychedelically-colored puppies.
It was epic and beautiful.
I was feeling strange Friday morning. I didn’t feel like going to work, didn’t want to spend money on coffee to make it less bearable, and didn’t really want to do anything once I got there.
Let’s be clear: I never feel like going to work. But most days I can just flick a switch in my brain that puts me on autopilot, which lets me skyrocket through my to-do list with such speed and strength that I entirely forget to take a lunch. That usually lasts until about 4pm, when I realize I’m a human being, not a monster, and I have feelings and hopes and dreams and I shouldn’t be confined to a desk and walls and carpet and darkness.
But then I only have an hour to go before I’m liberated and an hour is quite palatable.
Friday, however, was an anomaly. I showed up at work in the morning already completely uninterested. By 9am I was working at a snail pace, by 10am I was annoyed by my list of to-do’s, and by 11am I went for lunch. When I returned at 12, I mused online with a coworker over how I wished we could all just go home. I talked of liberty – of freedom – of glory.
By 12:15 I was back to staring at my to-do list, completely uninspired to-do any of them.
As time dragged on, screeching to an almost-hault just before 1pm I honestly began to wonder if I would be a better use of company money by going outside and getting ice cream. Because quite frankly, at least then I would’ve been doing something with a measurable outcome. At almost 1:00 on the dot, a colleague popped in my office to let me know that due to the terrible storm we had earlier that day (I wouldn’t know – I’m held captive in a windowless cave), the building was flipping to the emergency generator and would have enough power for lights only. Without a computer, I can do nothing. Which meant I had to go home.
I singlehandedly was responsible for the shutdown of our building through the power of wishful thinking.
Well, that and thanks to Our Lord God and Savior, who obviously saw that I was on the verge of a stroke from stress and unhappiness and decided to make it overwhelmingly obvious to me that I needed to slow down and breathe. Deeply.
And breathe deeply I did. Because the power to the elevators was cut and I dwell on the top floor of a very tall building. And because I was elated. Absolutely, truly, elated.
Perhaps when I return on Monday, I shall scribble a few key words onto a post-it note to remind me of the experience and prominently display it on my monitor for times when I feel trapped in my windowless cave. ♣