In a stunning turn of events that can only be described as an episode crafted by the finest absurdist playwright, the Great Alexandria Liberation has officially declared itself a success—by accidentally releasing a long-held property from the grips of bureaucratic red tape instead of an actual battle for freedom. Citizens poured into the streets, waving photocopies of land deeds instead of flags, while local wildlife cheered on from the sidelines, utterly confused by the commotion. It all began on a fateful Tuesday when Mayor C. T. Rights mistakenly thought he had received an urgent memo discussing the long-overdue liberation of "Alexandria." Excitedly, he gathered the townspeople, announcing that it was time to "Free what’s been locked up for too long!" With hearts a-flutter and homemade banners in hand, residents assumed the Mayor had unearthed a hidden treasure or, at the very least, the secret to the missing library books from 1997. The mayor, of course, was not referring to freedom in any philosophical or societal sense. Instead, he was speaking about the property that had mistakenly been entitled “The Warehouse of Old Office Supplies”—a long-forgotten storage unit filled with broken staplers, defunct photocopiers, and a surprising number of neon-colored paperclips. As the townsfolk trampled through the warehouse doors in an explosive celebration, cascading confetti made from shredded tax receipts filled the air. "Oh, we thought it was a metaphor, like when someone talks about freeing their mind!" said local philosopher and bingo champion, Delilah Quirk. "Turns out, it was just a place for old paperwork and some very uncomfortable bean bags." The mishap snowballed when the Mayor, upon realizing his blunder, attempted to rescind the liberation proclamation. But instead, he accidentally signed an official decree declaring that the space be transformed into “Alexandria’s National Museum of Procrastination”—honoring that universal experience of avoiding mundane tasks, which has apparently been celebrated throughout history. Excited citizens began donating their own items related to procrastination: to-do lists still untouched since 2003, half-written novels with titles like “The Very Long Story of the Very Long Story,” and video game consoles that had been collecting dust for years. Meanwhile, local artists began working on sculptures made entirely of unused sticky notes to showcase the nation’s unfulfilled motivation. While the media circus highlighted the supposed liberation, the warehouse itself found itself in great demand, leading local real estate agents to hike its value considerably. “It’s one-of-a-kind, folks! A true treasure trove of organizational failure,” boasted agent Rick “The Realtor” Venker. “A perfect place for prospective procrastinators looking to get away from it all!” The unintended museum opened with great fanfare, and surprisingly enough, attendance skyrocketed to levels previously unseen. "It turned into a real sensation,” stated hopeful entrepreneur and full-time nap trainee, Ginger Napworth. “Turns out people love to see the tangible evidence of what could have been if they had just gotten around to it. Who knew something so mundane could become such 'art'?" In the aftermath of the Great Alexandria Liberation, guests were treated to the self-run display of procrastinated projects and half-hearted resolutions, while residents clinked glasses filled with overpriced bottled water, marveling at how a botched decision had turned their town into the festival of lost ambitions. As Alexandria leans into its new identity as the world capital of "procrastinatory expression," one thing remains certain: in this peculiar comedy of errors, every stapler will get a second chance.