When I moved into my current place a few years ago, I thought it was cursed for the first few months. Every brew had some catastrophe or another. Some crowd favorites:
The pump wouldn't prime so while 2 of us were on the porch trying to get it running, the hose running from the kitchen faucet to clean out the mashtun was forgotten. 20 minutes & 2" of standing water. The other guy runs off to hunt one down & I soak every towel in the house, making absolutely no visible progress. We were still cleaning up the mess when it was time to rack over to the fermenter.
I had everything started up, water heating & forgot to mill the grain the night before like I usually do. In my haste I knocked the full hopper all over the carpet. It was pretty much the last of my base malt. No brew that day.
The first 'successful' brew day here I was so proud of myself for everything going right while I cleaned up. Then as I was hauling the grain out to the trash (crossing through the living room, the bag split as I was at the top of the stairs. 17-18 pounds of robust porter grist on the walls, the railing, the ceiling... it looked like a grain bomb went off. Real fun to clean out of the carpet.
There were some other ones not quite as 'fun' as those ... stuck mashes, burns, scalds, breaking hydrometers, losing thermometers in the mash or snowbanks ... What a great hobby, eh?

Recently I fired the pump on my HERMS coil & realized I disconnected a hose as I heard the gurgle. About a half cup of 170F wort to the chest & neck.
That Murphy guy really was on to something.

Maybe he was a brewer when he wasn't fucking up the Air Force's equipment.