My uncle messages me asking how we’re coping with lockdown.

Me: “We’re okay but [My Son] keeps asking me to take him to see the dinosaurs on the train.”

Uncle: “I presume that’s some sort of funfair ride he likes?”

Me: “No, the Natural History Museum. We go there on the train.”

Uncle: “Oh, I see. You mean that he wants you to take him, on the train, to see the dinosaurs. Sorry, I had a vision of the Flying Scotsman piloted by a stegosaur.”

I don’t know how it is for most women, but my monthly cycle gives me noticeable changes in my hormones almost every week, so it’s pretty easy to tell where in my cycle I am.

This particular night, I am talking with my husband when I realize that the reason I’ve been having one particular stress all evening is that I’m getting my “one week to chaos” warning. I mention this to him.

Husband: “What, so this is the ‘week before’ meeting, to finalize plans leading up to the event?”

I roll my eyes a little.

Me: “I guess so.”

Husband: *In a dramatic commercial tone* “Hormone Event Planners; the best planners in the body. Period.”

In my store, we have a few different choices when it comes to what we wear. Today, my coworker and I wore the exact same thing. My coworker has also dyed her hair to barely a shade darker blonde than me. 

I notice the team lead walk by a few times and every time he does, he does a double-take at us. On one of the passes, he stops.

Team Lead: “You guys are throwing me for a loop today. You’re both wearing the same thing and you’re both blonde.”

I felt bad for him the rest of the day, even worse knowing in a few weeks I was planning to dye my hair red which would then confuse him all over again.

My fianceé and I are visiting my mother at her house. We’re planning on staying the night there. We just found out this morning that my fianceé is pregnant, and of course, we told my mother, who is ecstatic.

We’re bringing our things in to take them upstairs. As we head across the kitchen:

Mom: “Separate bedrooms, you two!”

Fianceé: *Pauses for a moment* “I’m already pregnant. What exactly are you trying to prevent?”

Mom was completely speechless, and the look on her face was priceless! We slept in the same room that night.

I live in a state where recreational marijuana is legal. I’m ordering from a restaurant that’s popular with the stoner crowd and the people who work there are usually a little hazy themselves. For this reason, I’m usually pretty thorough about making sure everything I order is correct.

The delivery guy has just delivered my food and, to my surprise, everything is correct. I sit down to eat when I get a call.

Me: “Hello?”

Delivery Guy: “Hey, man, it’s your driver from [Restaurant]. I’m so sorry, man! I took your food to the wrong house!”

Me: “What? No, you didn’t.”

Delivery Guy: “You had [correct order], right?”

Me: *Pause* “Yeah?”

Delivery Guy: “I’m really sorry! I’m running back to the restaurant right now; I’ll be right there.”

Me: “No, dude, I’m telling you, I have everything I ordered right in front of me. I’m in the middle of eating it!”

Delivery Guy: “No, it’s totally my bad. Don’t worry.”

Me: “Listen to me. I just saw you! You handed the food to me! My name is on the receipt!” 

Delivery Guy: “Sorry. It’s going to be, I don’t know, like, ten more minutes.”

Me: “Please, I’m telling you: I paid, you gave me the food, and it’s all perfect. You don’t have to do anything. We’re all good.”

Delivery Guy: “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just been a long night. But I’m almost back at the restaurant now, so I won’t be too long.”

Me: “Really, it’s okay. I don’t need anything-”

Delivery Guy: “It’s no problem. Just… Oh, wait…”

He is silent for a good few seconds.

Delivery Guy: “My bad! Have a good night!” *Click*

I never figured out what he thought was going on. The food was great, though!