APPARENTLY, WE ALL DO THIS

A field guide to the strangely universal habits nobody remembers agreeing upon.

DELIGHT No. 9

Human beings are fascinating creatures.

We build cities.

Compose symphonies.

Explore space.

Perform complicated surgery.

Write poetry.

Develop astonishing technologies.

And when looking for something in the refrigerator—

we will close the door...

wait approximately four seconds...

and open it again.

As though new food may have spawned.

😂

Nobody taught us this.

There was no class.

No instructional pamphlet.

And yet—

apparently, we all do this.

The Volume Reduction Maneuver

You are driving.

You are looking for an address.

You cannot find it.

So naturally...

you turn down the radio.

Why?

Did the music obscure the house numbers?

Was Number 47 hiding behind the chorus?

Does eyesight improve when volume decreases?

Nobody knows.

But suddenly:

"Hang on. Let me turn this down so I can see."

And every other human in the car understands completely.

😂

The Microwave Observation Experiment

There are twelve seconds left.

You stand there.

Watching.

You could accomplish nothing meaningful in twelve seconds.

And yet somehow walking away feels irresponsible.

So you stare through the little perforated window at your food rotating slowly in the artificial light.

7...

6...

5...

Perhaps you open the door at one second because allowing the microwave to beep would apparently constitute defeat.

We've already established that this qualifies as a Tiny Triumph.

The governing bodies remain silent.

The Tongs

You pick up kitchen tongs.

Before using them:

click click.

Every time.

Why?

Quality assurance?

Communication with other tongs?

A small ritual passed down through generations?

Nobody knows.

But if you pick up tongs and don't click them at least twice—

I don't trust you.

😂

The Empty Container Investigation

You finish the milk.

Or juice.

Or cereal.

The container is empty.

Nevertheless, before throwing it away, you look inside.

Just to confirm.

Yes.

Still empty.

Excellent work, detective.

The Lost Object Protocol

You lose something.

You search.

You cannot find it.

Then another person enters.

“What are you looking for?”

“My glasses.”

They begin searching too.

And for reasons no scientist has adequately explained, both of you will eventually search places where glasses could not conceivably be.

The refrigerator.

A drawer nobody opened.

Under an object approximately one-sixth the size of the glasses.

Then someone says:

“Where did you have them last?”

Thank goodness.

Until that moment, you had planned to search exclusively in places you'd never been.

🤣

The Parking Lot Memory Ritual

You leave a store.

Walk confidently toward the parking lot.

Then—

stop.

Where is the car?

You stare across several hundred vehicles.

Perhaps you raise the key fob into the air like an ancient divining instrument.

beep beep

There.

Civilization continues.

The Doorway Phenomenon

You enter a room.

Stop.

You have absolutely no idea why you're there.

You stand silently.

Perhaps turn around.

Return to the previous room.

And suddenly:

OH!

You remember.

Apparently the original room was holding the thought hostage.

The Refrigerator Has Seen You Before

You return.

Open the door.

Same cheese.

Same mustard.

Same leftovers.

Nothing has changed since your previous inspection eleven minutes ago.

Close door.

You may be back.

The refrigerator knows this.

The Universal Container Collection

Every household has one.

A bag containing other bags.

A drawer of cords belonging to extinct technology.

A collection of jars we are definitely going to use for something.

A container full of containers.

A box labeled MISCELLANEOUS which is essentially an admission that classification has failed.

And somewhere—

a single key.

Nobody knows what it opens.

Nobody will throw it away.

Because the moment we do, whatever it belongs to will reveal itself.

This is known as Key Law.

Do not challenge Key Law.

The Goodbye That Isn't

Someone visits.

Eventually they say:

“Well, we should probably get going.”

This begins the departure process.

Nobody actually leaves.

Conversation continues for fifteen minutes in the living room.

Then moves to the doorway.

Another conversation begins.

Coats go on.

Ten more minutes.

Everyone steps outside.

A completely new subject is introduced.

Now we are talking beside the car.

Eventually someone opens the car door.

This somehow triggers another story.

From the initial announcement to actual vehicle movement:

approximately forty-seven minutes.

😂

Nobody considers this unusual.

And Then There Is This

You are walking past a mirror.

You weren't planning to stop.

You stop.

You look.

You adjust something.

Hair.

Collar.

Expression.

Perhaps you make a face at yourself.

Then continue walking as though nothing happened.

The mirror has agreed not to mention it.

Human Beings Are Peculiar

And I rather love that about us.

For all the ways we try to appear sophisticated, composed and entirely in control—

we still click the tongs.

Talk to machines.

Pat our pockets to make sure things are there.

Say “ow” when we bump into something that didn't actually hurt.

Lean sideways while watching someone bowl as though our body movement might influence the ball.

Press an elevator button that is already illuminated.

And say:

“Come on...”

to computers.

To traffic lights.

To printers.

To toast.

As though the object might respond:

"Oh! Sorry. Didn't realize you were in a hurry."

😂

Maybe our peculiar little habits are part of what makes us recognizable to one another.

Not the impressive things.

The tiny ones.

The things that make another person say:

“WAIT. YOU DO THAT TOO?”

Yes.

Apparently—

we all do this.