One time this happened...

As I struggled to reconnect the severed wires on my latest DIY robotic project, my roommate's loud karate instructor in the flat below us made me misspeak into the walkie-talkie for what felt like the hundredth time, "Echo-1, this is Nova-12: status unknown." Silence. Probably he'd muted it by now, judging by the way he glared at me through the floor vents whenever the walkie-talkie's incessant bleating disturbed his focus.

My fingers had a peculiar relationship with space, consistently misunderstanding it whenever I typed out my password on public computers. During a particularly arduous business trip, my hotel room computer screen turned eerily silent when I input 12 jumbled digits.

My fingers twitched as I struggled to remember the sequence of buttons on my grandfather's old VHS recorder, now proudly displayed beside the new 5K 4K whatever it's called. As a self-proclaimed genius who'd written 27 tweets about the benefits of analog life – much to the disdain of my followers who'd rather watch the world burn – I had decided to hold a seminar explaining the importance of VHS.

My finger slipped and the screen screamed as I accidentally downvoted my own TED talk with a string of 12 consecutive f-bombs.

There's a 4-inch patch of carpet between my laptop's keyboard keys and the coffee-stained cushion beneath it. I'm staring at it, wondering if this will be the time I finally fix the problem with my self-designed 3D printer.

I'm starting to think the only thing my smart coffee maker is intelligent about is its ability to judge me. Every morning, I try to hack its user interface, but it just doesn't cooperate.