A very serious account of absolutely unserious events
It started, as many terrible things do, with confidence.
Not the quiet, earned kind. The loud kind. The kind that says, “I’ve got this,” while holding a map upside down and refusing to admit it.
By 8:07 a.m., I had already declared the day a success.
I had woken up on the first alarm. I had found matching socks. I had poured coffee without spilling it on myself, which, statistically speaking, put me in the top ten percent of my personal performance history. Feeling bold, I even nodded at my reflection in the mirror like we were teammates.
“Today,” I told myself, brushing my teeth with unnecessary swagger, “we’re unstoppable.”
The mirror did not argue. That should have been my first warning.
The Coffee Incident ☕😬
The trouble began when I reached for the travel mug.
Now, I own several travel mugs. Some are tall. Some are short. Some promise to “keep liquids hot for 12 hours,” which is a claim I have never verified because I drink coffee like it’s trying to escape.
This particular mug had a lid that looked secure. Looked is doing a lot of work in that sentence.
I snapped it on, gave it a confident shake over the sink, and thought, “Perfect.”
Reader, it was not perfect.
As I stepped outside, the mug betrayed me in the most dramatic way possible. The lid popped open, launching coffee directly onto my shirt in a pattern that can only be described as modern art meets emotional distress.
I stared down at the stain.
The stain stared back.
We both knew there was no recovering from this.
I considered going back inside to change. I also considered the fact that I was already running late and that maybe, just maybe, people would assume the stain was intentional. A statement piece. A bold choice.
I chose denial and kept walking.
The Commute of Mild Doom 🚗
Traffic that morning moved with the enthusiasm of a sleepy turtle on vacation.
At one point, I checked the clock, then the road, then the clock again, as if staring harder might inspire the cars ahead to pick a personality and commit to it.
The radio offered no comfort.
Every station was either playing a song about heartbreak, a commercial about taxes, or a talk show where someone was yelling for reasons that were unclear but deeply emotional.
I switched stations so many times that the radio finally gave up and went silent. I respect that. Know your limits.
When I finally parked, I felt victorious. Slightly caffeinated. Mildly sticky. Still confident.
That confidence lasted exactly seven seconds.
The Door That Refused to Be Normal 🚪
I reached for the building’s front door, pushed confidently, and walked straight into it.
Not because it was locked.
Because it was a pull door.
A nearby coworker witnessed the entire event. We made eye contact. The kind that lasts too long. The kind that bonds strangers forever.
I laughed like it was on purpose.
“Morning exercise,” I said, patting the door like it had done a good job.
The door did not apologize.
Office Life, Now Featuring Chaos 🖨️
Inside, things escalated quickly.
The printer, sensing weakness, jammed immediately. Not a polite jam. A dramatic one. The kind that requires diagrams and inner strength.
I opened the tray. Paper stared back at me in smug defiance.
“Don’t do this,” I whispered.
The printer did it anyway.
After several minutes of tugging, pleading, and negotiating, the printer released the paper in tiny, shredded pieces, like it was making confetti for a parade I had not agreed to attend.
Someone behind me cleared their throat.
I turned around, holding a fistful of printer remains.
“It’s under control,” I said, sounding like someone who was absolutely not under control.
They nodded politely and backed away slowly, the universal signal for “I will remember this forever.”
The Meeting 🎤😶
The meeting began exactly when I sat down, which meant everyone saw me slide into my chair like a sitcom character arriving late to their own life.
I attempted to set my coffee on the table.
The table, however, was not level.
The coffee leaned. The coffee paused. The coffee spilled.
Silence fell across the room.
I stared at the spreading puddle, my coffee-stained shirt, and the universe itself.
“Well,” I said, gesturing vaguely, “this meeting is now interactive.”
Laughter erupted. Real laughter. The kind that saves a moment from total collapse.
I took a bow I did not deserve.
Lunch, or Whatever That Was 🍔
By lunchtime, I believed I had used up all my bad luck.
This belief was optimistic and wrong.
I ordered a sandwich I had ordered many times before. Same bread. Same fillings. Same expectations.
What I received was something else entirely.
There were at least three ingredients I did not recognize and one that appeared to be judging me.
I ate it anyway, because at this point, I felt like the day and I were locked in a contract.
Halfway through lunch, a coworker asked, “Is that supposed to be purple?”
I looked down.
It was not.
I finished the sandwich faster, avoiding further eye contact with it.
The Phone Call 📱
In the afternoon, my phone rang during a moment of deep focus.
I answered without checking the number.
“Hello?”
There was a pause.
Then a voice said, “Is this the person who requested information about iguana insurance?”
I closed my eyes.
“No,” I said carefully, “but I respect the question.”
We both hung up, equally confused.
Acceptance, Finally 😌
By the end of the day, something shifted.
The coffee stains had dried into abstract shapes. The printer remained broken. The door and I were no longer on speaking terms.
And yet, I felt lighter.
Because somewhere between the spilled coffee and the purple sandwich, I stopped trying to win the day and started letting it be ridiculous.
I laughed at myself. Out loud. In public. With witnesses.
And the strange thing was, once I did that, the day softened.
Nothing else went right.
But nothing else went terribly wrong either.
The Walk Home 🌇
As I walked home, tired and amused, I caught my reflection in a store window.
Coffee-stained shirt. Messy hair. Smile that didn’t care.
“You did okay,” I told myself.
The reflection nodded back.
This time, I believed it.
The Moral, If You Insist 🤷♂️
Some days are masterpieces.
Some days are slapstick comedies written by someone who drank too much espresso.
If you can laugh through the second kind, you’re doing better than you think.
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