I live with my mother, though we’re more like roommates. I pay the gas and electric bills while she pays the rest of the bills. My stepdad sleeps in a different house that we also own to keep it from seeming to be abandoned while we save up money to renovate it.

One morning in early December, I get up and am much more groggy than usual. I stumble out of my room to go to the bathroom, and I see my stepdad look up. He’s over by the stove and frantic.

Stepdad: “Are you okay?!”

Me: “I’m tired. I need to use the bathroom.”

Stepdad: “No, get your cat and go outside! Now!”

I am very confused, but I do what he says. I go back, grab my cat, and wander out of the house after slipping some shoes on. My stepdad comes back out a few minutes later with my groggy mother, the other cats, and the dog.

Stepdad: “The entire house was filled with gas! There was so much in there that you could see it! Are you both okay?!”

Now I begin to panic.

Me: “What?! How did that happen? Do we have a gas leak?”

Stepdad: “No, the stovetop was turned on, but it didn’t have a flame in it! The entire house was pumped with gas all night! Who left the stove on?!”

Mom: “Oh. I did that.”

Me: “…you did what?”

Mom: “I turned the flame on low to add some heat to the house last night. Something must have blown it out.”

I can’t tell who is angrier at this: me or my stepdad.

Me: “What the h***? Why would you do that?!”

Mom: “Well, it was cold, and the heater has been acting weird, so I didn’t want to turn it on.”

Me: “If [Stepdad] hadn’t gotten here in time, we could have died! No, listen to me. I pay the gas bill, and I say no more turning a burner on at night! Ever!”

Mom: “Well, what am I supposed to do when it gets cold?”

Me: “Put on a pair of socks! Wear an extra pair of PJ bottoms! Wear something with sleeves! Throw another blanket on your bed! You have a large, warm dog who sleeps with you; snuggle her!”

We later figured out that the reason we both made it through okay was that I sleep with my head next to the window that I keep cracked open in the winter, because I need a VERY cold room to be able to sleep well, and one of the windows in mom’s room has a chunk of glass missing. We both had a good supply of fresh air, as did the animals who sleep with us.

Mom doesn’t pull this anymore.

I have an eloquent friend. He answers the phone one day.

Friend: “[Last Name] residence. To whom do you wish to speak?”

Caller: “I must have the wrong number. Nobody I know uses the word ‘whom.’” *Click*

I just went through a well-known chicken restaurant’s drive-thru. With the meals, they supply a biscuit. Pretty much 100% of the time, all I get is the dry biscuit, which I find inedible by itself, so I have taken to asking for butter and honey packets.

One cashier told me once, “We always put that in.” I thought to myself, “Yes, where ‘always’ means ‘never.'” So, I continue to ask for the packets.

Today, the cashier yet again apologized that they didn’t put in any butter or honey and handed me the packets.

I got back to my desk with the food and open the box. You guessed it: no biscuit.

I play cards with a cabbie. He has no shortage of stories about weird passengers. The subject of convenience stores comes up. With the miles he drives and places he has to pick up people, he’s got stories about those, too. He asks us:

Cabbie: “What’s the scariest thing you’ve seen at a convenience store?”

Me: “$4.19 per gallon.”

My children were watching a movie at my parents’ house one weekend. It was for children, so any drama was tame. However, some scene in the movie frightened my youngest, who was four at the time. He rushed out of the room and to his grandmother.

Grandma: “Is it too scary?”

Son: “It’s five scary!”