I can’t talk about my mental health, so I’ll talk about three men in a boat

(to say nothing of the dog)

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When I was in 9th grade, I remember reading Jerome K. Jerome’s Three Men in a Boat in English class, and it taught me two things: first — that I should never, under any circumstances, attempt to row down the Thames; and second — that even the most pointless disasters can still be funny, if you squint hard enough.

The premise is simple: three men (and a dog who is charmingly insubordinate) decide to take a boating trip down the Thames to escape the stresses of modern life. What follows is a series of small disasters — poor packing, bad weather, worse singing — that spiral out of control, all narrated with a dry wit that makes even the most absurd situations feel painfully relatable. As a kid, I thought the humour was in their sheer incompetence. What I didn’t realise that it was also a pretty accurate guide to life.

The excerpt that we read in school starts off with a scene where the men attempt to pack for their trip — they agonise over what’s “essential,” throw in items on a whim, and double back every few minutes to question if they’ve packed too much, or too little, or exactly the wrong things. By the time they’re done, the boat is a precarious heap of frying pans, banjos, and inexplicable odds and ends. And, of…