Numerous individuals have stumbled upon enigmatic objects or phenomena, only to find solace in the vast realm of the internet, where inquisitive minds and experts converge to unravel these mysteries. In the following piece, we’ll present 11 extraordinary encounters people have had and unveil the insightful solutions offered by the online community as to what these odd things may be.
What is this little ramp thingy on the bottom of a lotion bottle?” nohurrie32 replied: “It’s for the manufacturing of the product so that it can be turned while standing up.”
An odd little desk?
“What is this thing? The inside opens up to empty space, it’s disconnected from the desk below.”
Reddit user crunchsmash said: “It’s a bed/lap desk. There’s supposed to be a metal bar underneath that slots into the wooden tray, so you can prop it up at different angles for reading and stuff”
A strange wall decoration
Image Credit: @Annabel_Lector / Reddit“Found in a house we just bought. Made of metal and screwed into the wall, has a hole in the middle. Located in bathroom by shower.”
Luckily, Reddit user Happy_Cranker had the answer: “This is either a soap dish holder or toothbrush holder, but it’s missing the middle part that held the ring. Does that make any sense in the context of where it is located in the bathroom? Could have been a holder for a hand towel as well. I remember seeing these in houses from the 60’s and 70’s.”
Odd things in doors
Image Credit: © JstTrstMe / Reddit“It’s called a ’speakeasy’ and it’s for talking to someone without having to open the door.” 3rdCoastTxn from Reddit replied to the question: “What is the purpose of this little door in the door?”
“My girlfriend brought it when we moved in. What is this?” It definitely tops the list of odd things we’ve seen.
Image Credit: © StevieNichole / Reddit“
It’s an abs exerciser.” – jackrats / Reddit
“Found in house during a remodel. It’s six inches long with a stone on the end. Google image search says it’s a pin but the end is dull. Any ideas?”
Image Credit: ThePoneLady / Reddit“
Looks like a pipe poker tool for a pipe bowl.” – KevOSinKS / Reddit
But…why?
Image Credit: © one__*ent / Reddit“
My clothes pegs are all individually numbered. Why is that?” Reddit user 3-cent-nickel knew why: “Different molds have different numbers so if they start coming out of the machine messed up, they can identify which mold needs replacing.“
Buttons and Memories
I miss my mom. I used to push all the buttons just as she would walk down the aisle, a mischievous glint in my eye. Each time we visited the grocery store, I’d dash ahead, my small fingers dancing over the colorful buttons of the self-checkout machine. With each beep, she’d turn around, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “You little rascal! One day, you’re going to break it!” she’d say, shaking her head, but her smile would give her away. Those moments were filled with laughter and light, the kind of memories that could brighten even the dullest days.
Since her passing, the grocery store has become a hollow place for me. I walk through, the automatic doors sliding open with a soft whoosh, and I feel the weight of the emptiness settle in my chest. The shelves filled with brightly packaged goods seem to mock my solitude. I can still hear her voice, echoing in my mind, reminding me to pick up my favorite snacks or to try a new recipe. I wander through the aisles, my heart heavy, searching for a piece of her in every corner.
I remember how she would linger by the produce, inspecting the apples with care, always choosing the shiniest ones. “The best things in life are worth taking a moment to choose,” she would say, her hands gently brushing over the fruit. Now, I find myself standing there, staring at the apples, unable to choose. They all seem dull and lifeless without her touch.
The self-checkout machines are still there, their buttons waiting to be pressed, but they feel like a cruel reminder of what I’ve lost. I can’t bring myself to push them anymore. The last time I stood in front of one, the memories flooded back. I could almost hear her laughter, feel her presence beside me. But it was just a memory, fleeting and painful.
Every week, I return to the store, hoping that somehow it will feel different, that I’ll find a way to connect with her again. But the aisles remain unchanged, their fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like a persistent reminder of my loneliness. I see other families laughing and chatting, and I feel like an outsider looking in on a world that no longer includes me.
One evening, as I walked past the cereal aisle, I spotted a box of her favorite brand. It was decorated with bright colors and cheerful characters, a stark contrast to the heaviness in my heart. I hesitated for a moment, then reached out and grabbed it, a sudden rush of nostalgia washing over me. I could almost see her standing beside me, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Let’s get it! We can make our special breakfast tomorrow!”
With the box cradled in my arms, I made my way to the checkout. I felt a warmth spreading through me, the kind of warmth that comes from cherished memories. But as I stood there, scanning the items and watching the screen flash numbers, I realized that I was alone. The laughter we shared, the spontaneous dance parties in the kitchen, all of it felt like a distant dream.
When I got home, I placed the box on the kitchen counter, a bittersweet smile tugging at my lips. I thought about making pancakes, just like we used to, the kitchen filled with the scent of vanilla and maple syrup. I reached for my phone to call her, to share the news, but my heart sank as reality set in. There would be no more calls, no more laughter echoing through the house.
That night, I sat in the dark, the box of cereal beside me, feeling the weight of my grief settle in. I poured myself a bowl, the sound of the cereal hitting the milk breaking the silence. As I took the first bite, tears streamed down my cheeks. Each crunch reminded me of the moments we had shared, and I felt an ache in my chest for the warmth of her presence.
“I miss you, Mom,” I whispered into the stillness of the room. “I wish I could press all the buttons just one more time, hear you laugh, feel your hand in mine.”
But the buttons would remain untouched, just as the aisles of the grocery store would remain silent, a reflection of the emptiness I felt inside. And in that moment, I realized that while the world continued to move forward, I would always carry her with me, a bittersweet reminder of the love that once filled my life.
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