(I’m living with my two best friends; we’ve just moved into a new apartment. One day, I swear I hear voices coming from the dishwasher. Both of my friends think I’m bonkers, and we all drop the subject. A few months later, I’m sitting in the living room doing homework, while my bestie is telling me about her day and unloading groceries.)

Bestie: “There’s enough here to…” *tapers off into silence*

(I look up to see my bestie making a really strange face while edging away from the dishwasher.)

Me: “YOU HEAR THEM TOO!”

Bestie: *wide eyed* “I seriously just thought the voices were one of those strange things I accepted about you for the sake of our friendship. Like your mismatched socks and love of trashy romance novels.”

Me: “Yeah, but voices?”

Bestie: “Definitely hearing voices.”

Me: “Yay friendship!”

(I am half Swiss, and often go away to Switzerland over summer break. I am currently telling a group of friends about how sometimes in Switzerland we wake up and watch the moon shine over the lake from our hotel balcony.)

Me: “It’s really pretty how the moon just shines over the water with the mountains behind it.”

Friend: “Wait! Wait! There is a moon in Switzerland!?”

(Our clinic has an animal hotel which backs out onto the alley behind. The back entrance is for employees and for taking dogs out for walks, and so only has a small sign to indicate it is an animal clinic. It is otherwise an anonymous-looking building, in an alleyway that looks like several others behind our neighboring strip malls. One such alleyway contains a medical marijuana clinic. It is 8 am on a Sunday. A stranger in his early twenties approaches me as I am taking a dog out for his morning business. I am in my scrubs, and so on the street I am sometimes mistaken for a nurse.)

Stranger: “Hey, you work here?”

Me: “Yep, I’m new.”

Stranger: “Okay, cool. They let you bring your dog to work with you?”

Me: “No, this is one of our boarders. Can I help you with something?”

Stranger: “They shouldn’t let you keep dogs in there! What if they ate your stock?”

Me: “I assure you, the pharmacy is kept well away from them. Did you need something?”

Stranger: “Yeah, just a dime.”

Me: *blankly* “I don’t have my wallet with me, I’m sorry.”

Stranger: *also blankly* “No, I mean… could you let me into the building so I can get it?”

Me: *thinking he is joking, I laugh* “The clinic is technically closed, sorry. Besides, I don’t think I want you going through my stuff!”

Stranger: “I don’t get it! My friends said you guys are super helpful! I just want to buy a dime!”

(At this point, I finally putting the pieces together.)

Me: “Ah, actually… we aren’t that kind of clinic. That one is the next alley up, but I’m pretty sure they’re closed at this time of day. We’re an animal clinic.”

Stranger: “S***! Sorry to bother you!”

(The stranger starts to leave in the direction he came from, but then turns around and goes the way I pointed and laughs.)

Stranger: “Yeah… I might be a little high.”

(I am out with my two young sons, when I run into a friend. We get on the topic of him taking a girl out on a first date in New York City.)

Friend: “I was thinking of taking her on a buggy ride in Central Park, followed by a romantic dinner, and then a Broadway musical.”

Me: “Ooh.. nice.”

(My six-year-old son decides to interject.)

Son: “Excuse me. Can I say something?”

Me: “No. Go play with your brother.”

Friend: “That’s okay. Let’s hear it.”

Me: “You will regret this.”

Friend: “Let the kid talk.”

Son: “Uhm, buggy ride? Are you crazy? It’s stinky and it’s bumpy. That girl will not like to eat dinner after a buggy ride.”

Friend: “Have you been on a buggy ride?”

Son: “Plenty of times. My brother loves it. But it’s the most disgusting thing in New York City. You see the horse’s butt the entire time. Stinky. And the ride is so bumpy you get a bellyache, and you wanna throw up.”

Friend: “So, I’ll skip the buggy ride then?”

Son: “I’m not finished. Why don’t you have dinner first? Then, if your girl is being nice, take her to Broadway. If she’s not nice, then you take her to the buggy ride.”

Friend: “And the reason for the buggy ride is…?”

Son: “So she throws up! Weren’t you listening to my story? You need to learn how to listen.”

Friend: *to me* “What the h*** kind of things have you been teaching your kids?!”

Me: “I really don’t know…”

(I am taking my four-year-old daughter and her friend to the store for some quick groceries. They are singing ‘The Wheels on the Bus,’ and are making up their own words.)

Daughter & Friend: “The mommies on the bus go, ‘Aaah! I need wine!'”