The building I work in may be on fire right now. I sort of hope that it is, but only for the sake of making this a more interesting story. About ten minutes ago there was a really strong smell of melted plastic, and shortly after that the alarm went off. I’ve been caught unprepared a few too many times, so I grabbed my coat, gloves, laptop, and secret money stash and ran down the street to the local Tim Horton’s. I can actually see the top half of my building from where I’m sitting and there are no giant fireballs shooting out of the place, no panicked folk screaming, “Help, help! My baby is trapped inside!” At least so far. I don’t wish ill of my building, or of anyone who works there. I think it just struck me that I didn’t leave anything of large value behind. In total, I would lose: three souvenir Vegas mugs, one pair of brown, suede shoes (I have two back ups at home), one pair of winter boots (which I sort of hate), one half-eaten box of Lindor chocolates ( won’t be missed), and...