My husband and I are lying in bed, having our usual pre-sleep recap of our days.

Husband: “[Boss] was giving us an overview of the candidates coming in for interviews. He said one of them gave him a bad vibe, said he came across as condescending.”

Me: “Ahh, condescending. The opposite of gentleman-ascending.”

Husband: *Long pause* “Shut up.”

Me: *Giggling wildly* “Hey, honey? What do you call a patronizing criminal going down a set of stairs? A condescending con descending!”

He rolled over in bed and pretended to fall asleep. I continued giggling. Unfortunately, I can’t even say my horrible jokes were due to a late hour; this is just my sense of humor. You’d think he would be used to it after eight years together.

England is in its third national lockdown. My mother and I are on the phone. We live about three hundred miles apart and, due to the restrictions and also the fact that my mother is at increased risk of serious illness, we have not seen each other for about ten months. During the emergency, my mother has been sending me little gifts of candy or books that I’ve wanted, and she wants to do something extra special for me for Valentine’s.

Mum: “So, I thought I could book you in at [Nice Local Hotel] for afternoon tea. How does that sound?”

Me: “Sure, when they’re open again.”

Mum: “Oh, are they closed?”

Me: “Mum, everywhere’s closed at the moment.”

My mother-in-law is very self-centred. When my second daughter is an infant, [Mother-In-Law] comes to stay with us for a few days, ostensibly to help with the new baby. She barely lifts a finger, however; in fact, she makes MORE work for my husband and me.

One morning kind of takes the cake, though. The baby has been up all night crying, and I am absolutely exhausted. [Mother-In-Law] comes upstairs from her room for breakfast.

Mother-In-Law: “You look terrible, [My Name].”

Me: “I bet. [Daughter] was crying all night, and—”

Mother-In-Law: *Reassuringly* “Don’t worry. I didn’t hear a thing, and I slept just fine.”

Oh, phew, because THAT was my biggest concern!

I have a friend who’s the kindest person in the world but not always the smartest.

I invite her, her husband, and a couple of other friends over to celebrate my birthday with me and my husband and daughters. My daughters are vegan. My invitation, which I send out via email, says:

Me: “Don’t bring anything! No presents except your presence, and we have the food all taken care of. There’ll be pizza, appetizers, and two kinds of cake: one vegan for our daughters, and one non-vegan for everyone else.”

[Friend] replies to the email.

Friend: “Sounds great! See you then.”

On the day of the party, [Friend] arrives with her husband and hands me an enormous, very heavy container.

Me: “What’s this?”

Friend: “It’s homemade cheesecake! Remember how you said that you wanted me to bring dessert?”

She then looks behind me and sees the two cakes, and her face falls.

Friend: “Oh… you have dessert?”

I try to respond as kindly as I can.

Me: “Well, yes, but that’s okay. More dessert is always good, and I love cheesecake.”

Friend: “And the best part is that your daughters will be able to eat it.”

Me: “Um, no, I’m afraid they won’t.”

Friend: “Sure, they will!”

Me: “Oh, is it a vegan cheesecake?”

Friend: “Yes! Nothing but pure, natural ingredients: butter, cream cheese, and sour cream.”

Me: “I’m really sorry, but they won’t be able to eat it. Those ingredients aren’t vegan.”

Friend: “They’re not?”

The icing on the cake, so to speak, was that she hadn’t given the cheesecake enough time to bake. It was raw and gooey in the middle. Turns out that she’d woken up that morning, somehow got it into her head that I’d asked her to bring dessert, and frantically threw a cheesecake together as quickly as possible.

She meant well.

My brother owns a house that he can’t live in due to health issues. There’s nothing wrong with the house; he just can’t live on his own, so he has moved in with our parents. He is not comfortable with renting the house out, fully intending on moving back one day, but on finding out that a cousin is moving to our area for a six-month contract, he offers the house to him to stay in.

We have other cousins who would take advantage of this sort of thing and would hound my brother mercilessly to provide them with the house, so this needs to be kept secret. Apart from my parents, uncle, and cousin, of course, I am the only other person told about the arrangement.

Brother: “[Cousin] moved into the house last week.”

Me: “That’s great. I might call around to say hello next week.”

Brother: “No, you can’t do that.”

Me: “Why not?”

Brother: “I don’t want anyone to know he’s there.”

Me: “Yeah, I know that. I’m not going to tell anyone.”

Brother: “I know you wouldn’t. I can trust you. But what if someone finds out?”

Me: “Who’s going to find out? [Cousin]? Who’s he going to tell? Himself? I think he already knows that he’s living there.”

Brother: *Confused* “What?”

I raise my eyebrows, waiting for it to click. When it does, he starts laughing.

Brother: “Oh, yeah, I forgot that.”