You’ll begin to bike down the street, hit a bump and your travel coffee mug will proceed to fly out of your hands. After it takes its first (and last) flight, it slams into the concrete sidewalk, shatters and spills your beloved liquid gold (brown?) all over said sidewalk.
While you’re still recovering from the loss of the nectar of the gods for your subway ride into hell (otherwise known as “work), you’ll bend over to pick up the remaining shards of plastic of your travel mug, only for your 5th (and thus very precious) iPhone to fall out of your pocket, falling onto the same cursed concrete and shattering the glass in a corner.
With no time to weep loudly like you want to, you’ll pick up your phone, leave the pieces of your belongings behind on the devil’s walkway, shove your battered phone back into your pocket, and then almost get hit by a big delivery truck not paying attention to the road.
So, yup. It’s Monday morning here in Chancy-land, and I couldn’t be more miserable.