If you’re new around here, confessions are a time for us to all unburden ourselves of the silliness we’re feeling at the moment.
I share dumb things, then you share dumb things, and we all have a better day because of it. Let’s get started!
I was at Costco a few weeks ago, on a Wednesday night. I love to go mid-week when possible, because our warehouse is pretty empty.
As I was shopping, I noticed a lot of weird movements around the produce section. Someone dressed in a striped red and white shirt, wearing a hat with a pom pom on top, and round glasses when flying by.
He darted behind a large cardboard box full of onions and yelled “found you” to another person dressed just like him.
My friends, I stumbled into a Where’s Waldo game of adult hide and seek.
As I finished my shopping, I saw five more of these people, all hiding around the warehouse.
My eyes are extremely sensitive to light; I often have to wear sunglasses, even during the fall or winter. Troy calls me a vampire. It’s a whole vibe.
I’ve been wearing glasses or contacts since 5th grade, which means my eyesight sucks and keeps getting worse. Now that I’m getting older, I have a harder time seeing things in dim lights.
But there have been times when things look dim, so I lift up my sunglasses to see better, only for it to be too bright for me to see anything. I’m a hot mess.
I’m not sure if this is a regional thing or not, but people in the Pacific Northwest apologize WAY too much. And yes, I do it. Sorry.
I’ve noticed that if one person is heading into a location and other is coming out, both will say “ooops, sorry” as they reach for the door. What is there to be sorry about? You both needed to use a door. You both were deferential to the other.
And yet, I constantly say sorry to anyone going into or out of the same location as me. Always.
If you want to know the true PNW heart, check out this old local commercial on how we handle four-way stops.
I was running errands a few weeks ago and stopped by a local fast food chain to use the bathroom. I asked the woman at the counter for the code, and she said 8675, and I couldn’t stop laughing.
She seemed so pleased that I got the joke. I’m guessing most customers are either not paying attention or don’t understand it.
Confused? Check this out.