The art of losing it

Some days, you wake up thinking: “Today’s the day. Let’s go.”And the universe casually replies: “You know what? F you.”

I’m not talking about tragedy or heartbreak. I’m not even talking about proper bad luck. I’m talking about the dumb, irritating, wildly unimportant things that somehow add up until you feel like throwing your toaster out the window.The kind of day that seems to say: “I’m not going to ruin your life. I’m just going to poke at it. Repeatedly.”

Let me give you the highlights.

It starts with red lights. All of them. Every single one. Every intersection, every turn, even that pedestrian crossing you usually ignore. Suddenly, everything is out to slow you down. And somehow, you get stuck behind the one person who treats every green light as a gentle suggestion, and every pedestrian crosses at the speed of a snail.

You finally get to the store. You buy that one ingredient you need. Later, when you’re cooking and proudly in the zone, you forget to use it. It sits on the counter, smug. Mocking you. You would punch it, but it’s coriander, and you’re too tired for herb violence.

You try to open a pack of ham or cheese or whatever it is you wanted to eat without thinking about it. The packaging says “peel here.” You peel. It gives up after a millimeter, splits unevenly, and now you’re a full-grown adult wrestling a slice of meat. Plastic everywhere. Tears.

You try to tear off a piece of paper towel. Does it tear on the dotted line? Hell no. It rips diagonally, leaving you with an awkward triangle that neither fits your hand nor cleans anything. You wipe the counter with your dignity and your shirt.

You butter a slice of bread. It tears. Just like that. Mid-spread. As if the bread said: “Actually, no thanks.”

Then you get to work. Emails. Phone calls. Random drop-ins. Everyone needs something, right now, all at once. You try to answer one thing while another dings. And somehow, in all of this, your tea goes cold. Yeah, that special tea you bought and it was the last one.

You wonder: is this punishment? A test? A sitcom episode about someone who forgot to forward a chain email? You start looking for cameras.

Should you laugh, should you cry?

But here’s the thing.

We chase happiness like it’s a big dramatic reveal. A relationship. A promotion. A new chapter.But some days, happiness is just tearing the paper towel correctly. It’s the butter spreading without resistance. It’s a traffic light that turns green before you even brake.

And some days? It all goes right.

You find a parking spot right in front. You open the packaging on the first try. The song you love starts playing just as you start the car - oh, or even better it ends exactly when you park! The butter spreads like a dream. The kitchen roll tears in one clean line. Someone sends you a message you didn’t expect, but needed. You’re five minutes early, your coffee is hot, and your brain actually remembers the ingredient this time. You get invited for a surprise lunch when you needed it the most. Pedestrians say thank you and move swiftly, and the universe decided that today no accidents will happen on the road and there's no traffic.

Nothing big. Just the tiny things finally working with you instead of against you.And for a moment, it feels like the universe gives you a little nod. As if to say: “Okay. Go on then. This one’s yours.”

What I try to do (I really mean try) is to simply accept that either it's "one of those days" (while ketchup flies everywhere after it drops when you simply open the fridge door) and you already expect everything that day will simply fail you, but I also try to really see when everything is going right.

So maybe happiness isn’t about everything going right.

Maybe it’s just about noticing when it does — and not letting the rest turn you into someone who throws ham at the wall.

That’s it. No grand conclusion. No breakthrough.Just a quiet “not today, chaos.” And we move on.

Thanks again for reading!