(I’m visiting my mother and her boyfriend. He has seemed like an OK guy thus far. Then a package shows up. It’s addressed to someone else with my mom’s address.)

Me: “I guess they delivered it to the wrong house.”

Mom’s Boyfriend: “It has the right address.”

Me: “Well do you know a [Name]?”

Mom’s Boyfriend: “No, but it’s ours now.”

Me: “What? Shouldn’t we just call UPS or… Here, there’s [Name]’s phone number on the package.”

Mom’s Boyfriend: “It was delivered to our address, so it’s not our fault.” *opens package* “Huh, it’s makeup.”

Me: “You can’t just open someone else’s package!”

Mom’s Boyfriend: *calling to my mother in the next room* “Honey, do have a use for… concealer?”

Mom: “Huh? Sure.”

(I tried to explain what happened, but my mother simply shrugged and said “oh, well!”)

(I work at a small self-serve frozen yogurt store. One night, a man and his young daughter come in, the daughter clearly excited about getting frozen yogurt. I chat with them, help them out, and everything goes fine until it’s time to pay. He reaches into his wallet to pay, and pulls out a $100 bill. Because $100 bills are so easily faked and because we have so little in our change drawers, our store policy won’t let me accept it.)

Me: “I’m afraid I can’t accept a $100 bill, sir; it’s against our store policy. Do you have another method of payment, like a credit card?”

Customer: “No, this is all I have. Are you sure that you can’t take it?”

(He shows me the entire wallet, which, true to his word, only has $100 bills. By this point, from his accent and the contents of his wallet, it’s clear to me that he and his daughter are foreign tourists out for a late night treat, and as she has been so excited, I don’t have the heart to make her give the yogurt back.)

Me: “In that case, I’ll just let you have the yogurt for free.”

Customer: “Oh! Thank you — but I’ll come back to pay you. I’ll go to the bank and get smaller bills.”

Me: “You don’t have to do that; it’s all right. Have a good night!”

Customer: “No, no, no. I will come back!”

(The two of them start to head out with their yogurt.)

Customer’s Daughter: “Where are we going, Daddy?”

Customer: “To the bank, so that I can pay the lady. Go ahead and eat your yogurt.”

(They leave, and I leave the check open and go back to tending to the store. About fifteen minutes later, I notice a truck pull up in front of the store, and to my surprise, it’s that customer and his daughter!)

Me: “Hello, I see that you are back!”

Customer: “Yes, I went to the bank to get money you can take. Here you are!”

Me: “Oh, thank you!”

(He hands me a $20 to pay. Since I’d left the check open, I was able to give him change and hand it to him.)

Customer: “They closed the exit to here so I had to drive all the way around to the other exit — but I was going to get you your money!”

Me: “Thank you very much for coming back, sir. A lot of people wouldn’t have bothered.”

Customer: “No, thank you for letting us take the yogurt. Have a good night!”

(That girl is lucky to have such a great father!)

During a particularly bad few days I am walking around trying to clear my head. I then go to sit on a park bench and find a piece of paper taped there.

Written in markers is “Need a smile? Take one!” with a cartoon smile drawn on.

Needless to say I did and I still have that paper. Whoever you are, thank you for that as it helped me through a really awful day.

(In my history class we have just finished reviewing the hunt and assassination of Osama Bin Laden. The class discussion went sort of like this.)

Classmate: “But why did they bury him at sea though?”

Teacher: “They usually do that so people don’t find the remains and build memorials to them and whatnot.”

Me: “My goal in life is to be so famous that the U.S. government buries me at sea when I die.”

Teacher: “When I said famous, I kinda meant infamous. Like, only the most horrible and cruellest people have had to have their remains be made untraceable.”

Me: “Whatever it takes.”

(My husband and I have been married about six months. He comes into the bedroom while I’m changing my clothes, immediately covers his eyes, and turns around.)

Me: “What are you doing that for?”

Husband: *starts laughing* “Oops… for a minute I forgot that we’re married and I’m allowed to see you naked.”