I tripped a circuit breaker in the apartment this morning while I was trying to make turkey bacon in the microwave while toasting an eggo waffle.
For whatever reason, I assumed our building is so old the breaker/fuse box would be in the basement and therefore inaccessible to anyone who isn't our super. By the way, our super lives in Poland. I spent the morning trying to call the management company before running out the door to work. (In the interest of full disclosure, I also ate a cold waffle while I was doing that).
Stephanie was still asleep. God love her. She brings the adorable quotient in the apartment but I wasn't too confident in her ability to fix the problem in my absence. I figured it would have to be taken care of when I got home from work/the Sarah Vowell reading. In the meanwhile, the contents of our fridge would go bad. Since we don't keep food in the apartment, it's probably a $30 loss.
Well, I was wrong. After some aggressive demanding from me on gchat, and with the gentle guidance of John Robert, Stephanie managed to find and flip the circuit breakers. They are, for future reference, located in the hallway across from the kitchen. Go figure. Well played, Stephanie.