(I recently reconnected with the Catholic priest from my childhood parish. He is also one of the few Catholic priests I know who does not care for alcohol due to alcoholism negatively affecting his own family. One evening, he comes for a visit and enters my kitchen.)

Priest: “Well, [My Name], what is that in the corner there?”

(He points to a large bottle of wine as he raises his eyebrows at me.)

Me: “Father, that’s water, but Jesus was here, so it might be wine now!”

(He just laughed and clapped me on the shoulder.)

(From the time we were kids until she passed, my grandmother insisted on taking my cousins, uncle, and me out to eat the first Sunday of every month at a local diner. She always insisted on paying, and would always tip a single dollar. We are at her funeral dinner, and I turn to my cousin with a confession.)

Me: “I don’t think Nana ever got that a dollar tip was kind of an insult. I started leaving an extra tip hidden under my plate for the waitress.”

Cousin: “Wait, what? I was doing the same thing!”

(Laughing for the first time since Nana passed, we run over to [Cousin #2], who shockingly says that for the past few years he has been lingering behind to drop an extra tip on the table. By this point, we are all doubled over with laughter. Our uncle comes over and we tell him what’s up.)

Uncle: “So, I should tell you something. I’ve been handing a tip off to the waitress before we get seated since you guys were kids, to make up for Nana’s tipping.”

(It turns out everyone except my two youngest cousins, who are still in highschool and don’t have jobs, has been leaving between 10% and 20% tip! We all went from feeling guilty about Nana’s tipping habits to realizing that they must have thought we were the best tipping family, in an over-complicated sort of way.)

(I have the stomach flu, and have spent the night throwing up, with diarrhea. Dehydrated and in pain, I go to the emergency room. I’m trying to do something to distract myself from the pain, so I turn on the TV in the room. The channel buttons don’t work, so it’s stuck on a staged reality show that features a lot of yelling and fighting. The nurse comes in while it’s on commercial.)

Nurse: “Okay, you are so dehydrated the doctor wants you on IV fluids for a while before we run more tests. Oh, what are you watching? Oh, this show is so trashy; I can’t believe it. Who would watch a trashy show like this. Do you like this?”

Me: “It’s what was on.”

Nurse: “Oh, wow. I can’t believe how trashy this is.”

(She stops and turns to watch the TV, ignoring me. It isn’t until the next commercial break that she finally turns and puts the IV in my arm, then leaves without attaching the saline. I start dry-heaving again, and she comes back in to give me a bucket to throw up in.)

Nurse: “Didn’t I attach the saline? I must have been distracted by that trashy TV show you like. What are they doing now?”

(She watches until the end of the episode, while I deal with waves of nausea, then finally comes back with the saline drip.)

Nurse: “Oh, my God, it’s another episode! Are they running a marathon? Who watches this trash?”

(She fiddles with the saline drip for a while, while watching the TV, and then stands and watches until the next commercial break. As soon as she leaves, I turn off the TV. She comes back in a moment later with another nurse.)

Nurse #2: “Why didn’t you start the anti-nausea medicine?”

Nurse: “I only just got the IV on her.”

(I was finally medicated, and as it kicked in, I drifted off into sleep. I was woken up by the TV being turned back on, and the nurse standing there watching it. She caught me watching and shook her head, muttering about the trashy show.)

(I crocheted a Pokémon. The pattern is complicated, due to the Pokémon having a weird shape and lots of little pieces that need to be made and sewed on. I also made a major mistake, didn’t realize it until several rounds later, and had to undo half of it to fix it, so once it’s finally finished I’m quite proud of it. I show it off to my friends.)

Friend: “Oh, wow! You made a Lugia!”

Me: “Yep. It took me forever to work on that. I think I was working on it off and on for most of this week.”

Friend: “Can I have it?”

Me: “I beg your pardon?”

Friend: “Can I have it? It’s nice. I want one.”

Me: “I made that because I wanted it, and no, you can’t just have it for free.”

Friend: “Why not? Can’t you just make another one?”

Me: “Did you miss the part where I said I worked on it for about a week?”

Friend: “So, can I buy one, then?”

Me: “Sure, but it might take me a while to do it, because I don’t feel like crocheting another complicated pattern so soon, and it’ll cost you $100.”

Friend: “$100? It’s not worth that much!”

Me: “Trust me, you’re probably getting this for a lot less than it’s worth.”

Friend: “I’ll give you $20 for it.”

Me: “I am not taking $20 for something that took that much time and effort to make.”

(He argues with me back and forth, raising his offer to a “generous” $30, when finally I get fed up and pull out my phone calculator and a piece of paper.)

Me: “Okay, since you don’t seem to understand this, how about we break it down and calculate the worth? First, the yarn that went into making it. I used the majority of a brand-new skein of white yarn that cost me about $3. The rest of the yarn for the blue bits was probably about a dollar’s worth, and the Fiberfill used is probably about a dollar’s worth at most, too.”

Friend: “Okay, so that’s only about $5. Nowhere near $100.”

Me: “I’m not done. It’s not just the material that went into making it; you also have to factor in the time spent on it. I don’t have an exact estimate of how long I worked on this, but let’s say about five hours a day for five days. That seems about right.”

Friend: “So, 25 hours altogether?”

Me: “Right. Now, the minimum wage in Pennsylvania is $7.25 an hour, so multiply that by 25, and that’s $181.25, plus the $5 for materials, which brings your total for the Pokémon amigurumi up to $186.25. I expect that all in cash, and I don’t take payment until it’s done for people I know personally, so you’ll have some time to save up.”

Friend: “Uh… What else can you make?”

(I ended up making him a Charmander,  and charged him $20 for it because it was a lot easier and less time-consuming. Let’s hope he learned something and doesn’t pull this again with me or someone else.)

(My dad and I have a rather sarcastic relationship. I’m 41, female, and have never been married. As a result, I’ve been having the following conversation with him for the past 20 years. Twenty years old:)

Dad: “So, not married?”

Me: “Dad! I’m still in college! And 20! And… NO!”

Dad: “What if I put $20 and a ladder outside your window?”

Me: “…”

(Twenty-five years old:)

Dad: “I’m thinking of upping things to $25.”

Me: “…”

Dad: “…”

Me: “Really?”

(Thirty years old:)

Dad: “It’s now $50. Desperate times…”

Me: “Uh… I don’t even live in the same time zone.”

Dad: “…”

Me: “Really?!”

(Thirty-five years old:)

Dad: “Hmmm… Maybe $100 will do it?”

Me: “There’s nothing wrong with not being married!”

Dad: “…”

Me: “Seriously?! How about you give me the $100, and you can keep the ladder?”

(Forty-one years old:)

Dad: “The ladder’s still there, but now it’s a blank check.”

Me: “OH, MY GOD! I DON’T EVEN LIVE ON THE SAME COAST!”

(Later the same day:)

Me: “So, my dad has been joking about putting a ladder and some money outside my window because I’m still not married. It used to be $100, but now it’s a blank check.”

Significant Other: “A blank check, you say? What’s his return policy?” *speculative smirk*

Me: *facepalm*