During a long road journey up the coast, I stopped in a small town to grab a bite to eat.

When I walked into a pizza place, the first thing that I noticed was a large sign on the wall advising: “Quality. Service. Price. Pick Any Two.”

One year, my father was in and out of hospital. Each time, his tireless neighbours stepped in – mowing the lawn, clearing the driveway, taking Mum to the hospital and picking up prescriptions.

After Dad recovered, my mother said, “I’d like to thank the neighbours for all they did. What would be something they’d appreciate?”

Dad suggested, “Tell them we’re moving.”

I got a call from my local library. “The two items you requested are not available,” the librarian informed me. “The book on speed reading is overdue, and the person who took out the CD on getting organised has misplaced it.”    
Jason Reid

I felt like my boyfriend, Brian, was taking me for granted. “You’re never home,” I complained. “All you want to do is hang out at the pub with your mates. We only go out if they’re not available.”

“That’s not true,” Brian protested. “You know I’d much rather be with you than have fun.”

The woman in front of me was having her eyesight tested for her driver’s licence, first with her glasses on, then off.

“Here’s your licence,” the examiner said when she was finished. “But there’s a restriction. You need to wear glasses to drive your car.”

“Sweetie,” the woman declared, “I need them to find my car.”  
Nicole Haake

“Hand wash,” read the label on a baby garment. “Line dry in shade.”  

The item? A sun hat.

Visiting my local shopping centre, I saw an elderly couple holding hands as they walked along. As they passed by, I smilingly commented on how delightful it was to see them being romantic at their age.

The man replied, “I’ve been holding her hand when we go out for over 30 years. I have to. If I let go, she shops.”                                                    

I was thrilled to see a beautiful bunch of flowers waiting for me at work. But I was mystified by the card, which read

“With love from A.C. Credmire.”

That evening, I told my husband about A.C. Credmire.

“That’s me,” he said, laughing. “When I called it in, I’d asked the florist to sign it
‘With love from a secret admirer.’ ”

Dad’s satellite dish conked out. When I walked into his living room, I found my  father talking on the phone to the help desk. The TV set was pulled away from the wall, and he was staring at the mass of tangled wires spilling out from the back of it.
He looked completely overwhelmed.

“Tell you what I’m going to do,” Dad said to the technician. “I’m going to hang up now, go to university for a couple of years, then call you back.”

I had just left Frank, a restaurant so hip it doesn’t even have its name on the door, when a man stopped and asked me if I knew where the
restaurant “Frank’s” was.  I pointed to the door and said, “By the way, it’s ‘Frank’ not ‘Frank’s’.’’ He started to walk in, then turned to me and said, “Thank.”              

Lying in bed one morning, my husband said to me, “I think you’re losing weight.”

Having dieted for the past month, I was thrilled to hear this.

Hoping he was going to tell me how good I looked, I asked him why.

“Because,” he replied. “You are not snoring nearly as much.”