Black Monday

January 21st. Monday. I was working as an assistant back then, and my manager came into the office with one of those “let me drop some trivia on you” moods.

“Today is Black Monday,” he announced.

I blinked. “What is that? Another sales holiday? Clearance on paper towels?”

He chuckled and explained: “No, Lily. Black Monday is supposed to be the most depressing Monday of the year. People get their Christmas bills, small businesses go bankrupt, and all kinds of bad things happen. It’s like the universe schedules a group meltdown.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t believe it. That’s not true.”

Spoiler: I should have knocked on wood.

Later that day, I was mopping the hallway, right at the end where the stairwell door is. My mop got stuck in the exit door. No big deal. I stretched to open the door and free the mop. Important note here: I wasn’t walking, running, or even moving my legs—just stretching my arms to pull the mop loose.

The next thing I know, I’m on the ground. Hard.

I swear, it felt like someone shoved me. To this day, I don’t understand how I ended up flat on the floor. The pain in my left ankle was instant and sharp. I tried to stand up, but my leg refused to cooperate.

I looked around. Empty hallway. Not a soul in sight. The silence made it feel even stranger—like the building itself had played a trick on me.

Then it hit me—I was just a few doors away from my apartment. I yelled my daughter’s name as loud as I could. She peeked her head out, saw me crumpled on the floor, and ran straight over. Within minutes she was calling an ambulance.

My manager showed up while we waited. He crouched down, checked my ankle, and said grimly: “Don’t move. I think it’s serious.” Then he gave me a look and added, “I told you it’s Black Monday.”

If I hadn’t been in blinding pain, I might have yelled “shut up!” right there. But when your ankle feels like it’s been set on fire, arguing doesn’t make the list of priorities.

The ambulance came, I was whisked off to the hospital, and sure enough: broken ankle. Cast and crutches became my new accessories. Walking the building turned into hobbling the building.

So, do I believe in Black Monday now? Let’s just say… I do not mop near stairwell doors on the 3rd Monday in January.