A friend convinced me to try a dance class, and I ended up going with her sister. At first, I was awkward and shy, but after a month, something changed—I began loosening up and dancing more confidently. I was even getting good at it. One day, the teacher actually praised me in front of everyone. I was over the moon—too happy, it seems. Because by the end of that very same class, I felt a sharp pain in my lower back. I couldn’t even walk home.

Turns out, I had triggered a recurrence of a herniated disc. I needed surgery and weeks of bed rest to recover. What started as a joyful new hobby quickly turned into a painful and expensive lesson. So yes, I learned to dance… right into an operating room. That one moment of glory cost me a small fortune and a whole lot of discomfort.

For my birthday, my husband gave me… a shower gel. Not even a nice one—I hated the scent. I didn’t say anything right away, but I was hurt. It’s not like we were broke; I’d even checked our bank account and his company’s finances. He could’ve at least picked up a bouquet or something thoughtful. This just felt careless and cold.

So, after stewing for a while, I poured the gel down the toilet and cried. That evening, he came home smiling and asked, “Did you find it?” Confused, I admitted I had no idea what he meant. Turns out, he had hidden a ring inside the bottle cap to surprise me. He was planning a sweet proposal twist—and I had flushed it. Yep, he had to fish the ring out of the toilet himself. Plot twist of the year.