The college choir I’m in is rehearsing a song. In this part of the song, one section sings its part and keeps repeating it while the other sections join in one by one. The altos and tenors are already singing, and we reach the point where the sopranos join in.

Director: “Add the sopranos!”

The sopranos join in, but the tenors drop out. The director notices and stops conducting.

Director: “When I say, ‘Add the sopranos,’ that means the other parts keep singing. It does not mean to drop out and have only them sing. That is not what ‘add’ means.”

One of my friends in the soprano section chimes in.

Soprano: “Welcome to kindergarten.”

Director: “When you’re making a cake, and it says to add eggs to the flour, you do not take the flour out of the bowl and put the eggs in alone. Let’s do it again, and make sure you’re actually singing!”

We get through that iteration and reach the bass section’s entrance. This time, the instructions are different.

Director: “Just the basses this time. A bowl of eggs.”

My wife used to be a flight attendant. One of her passengers was an elderly man who spoke broken English. He kept pressing the flight attendant call button during take-off, but obviously, for safety reasons, no one could attend to that until the take-off procedure was complete.

When it was done, my wife headed straight for this passenger.

Passenger: “Excuse me, miss. For ten minutes, I have been fingering the stewardess, and still she has not come.”

A coworker from my bakery calls me.

Coworker: “I know it’s early, but I just wanted to let you know that when you start your shift, you’ll be opening.”

Me: “But I don’t start until 11:00 am. What happened to [Manager]? Isn’t he opening?”

Coworker: “Something came up, and he can’t make it in. He asked me to check if you have keys.”

Me: “I do. Thanks for letting me know.”

I decide to head in a little early since the manager and owner are great guys and are always nice to me. When I get to the bakery, I can see a hastily written sign on the door from my manager. I am reminded that English is not his first language.

He comes in later in the afternoon, and some of our regulars keep asking him the same question.

Manager: *To me* “Why do they all keep asking me about my procedure and then smiling?”

Me: “Maybe because your sign this morning said, ‘Closed due to personal circumcisions’?”

CONTENT WARNING: Blood

My husband and I went on daily walks while working from home during the [global health crisis]. I was pregnant at the time, so it was especially important to get some movement in.

I started getting a lot of nosebleeds during the winter, which my obstetrician assured me was normal during pregnancy. We were out for an afternoon walk when my nose suddenly started to bleed. We’re talking out of nowhere, a flood of blood like the elevator doors opening in “The Shining”.

We were about a block from home at that point, but I didn’t have tissues or anything on hand to stop the absolute torrent of blood.

My husband ran home while I leaned over a fence. I was heavily dripping blood, but standing that way meant it dripped on the ground instead of pouring down my face or clothes.

He ran back a few minutes later with tissues to help staunch the blood long enough for me to get home.

Husband: “I hope none of the neighbors saw that! You’re doubled over bleeding from the nose as I run away from my pregnant wife!”

I overhear this conversation between a child and his father.

Child: “Hey, Dad, what does ‘misanthropic’ mean?”

Father: “It means someone who likes dogs more than humans.”

Child: “…Huh. I guess I’m misanthropic?”

Father: “Most people are, son. Most people are.”