This made me smile. 🤣 I feel like it’s for the true stories. I wrote about an incident involving my husband and I, and a door opening between us and struggled with it. Could be covid burnout, but I was like...this doesn't make sense! I need to explain the stairs and the bathroom!

Also makes me miss my British grandparents.  And parents. 😘❤

I woke up in the middle of the night thinking about this story. ❤

Hiya! I lost my dad this year and my kids are 3 and 5. I just wanted to say thank you for sharing your lovely story. It really warms my heart. ❤

Same

Home Sweet Haunted Home

Following! One please! 

I read this twice and tried to choke back my laughter while my husband slept on the couch beside me. 🤣❤🎃

❤❤❤

I love this! It's perfect. Just made my husband read it too. 

Dear folks that are worried their comments will never be seen, I am reading them and I am sure folks like me are reading them too. I truly appreciate all of your stories and they genuinely scare me. Your efforts are not for nothing, YOUR RANDOM STORIES ARE MY FAVOURITE. Thank you! Keep it up. With much love, me. And…

My mom was in England attending my lovely Granddad's funeral. It was the deadline for my university applications and no one in my family had gone to university,  and they didnt know how to help...so I crumbled from the stress. And to top it off, my stoner boyfriend broke up with me in History class with a fucking…

mostly, I hate vintage hiking boots at music festivals (incident).

46% of Canadians are $200 or less away from financial insolvency. In Ottawa, where I live, minimum wage isn’t living wage. People cannot afford rent. That is the financial reality in Camada. I would give to a gofundme campaign for this.

My dad told us, me and my three older sisters, that orange juice pulp was called fib. And to remove the fib from your orange juice, you used a defibrillator. This went my entire childhood and into my teens. I just believed. My sisters and I asked our friend's confused parents for defibrillators at post sleepover…