Once in a while, we come across things in our household that we can’t identify. If this happens to you, just know that you can ask the experts on Reddit. Here, people from all around the world share their knowledge and help figure out the purpose behind some really mysterious things.
Now I’ve Seen Everything can now say we haven’t really seen everything and here are some mysteries the internet managed to solve!
1. “Part with spokes rotates, spokes (of different diameters) match up to hole in the opposite side of the tool. Sharpie marker for size.”
Answer: It is for punching holes in leather or similar things. Like, for a belt.
2. “This little plastic basket/holder inside the far corner of a trolley — I asked the supermarket staff, they had no idea.”
Answer: It’s a bitz box (a place for small items, like pens, batteries, etc.).
3. “I know it’s a chair, but what’s with the extended arms?”
Answer: It looks like a plantation/planter chair. You’d put your sore, swollen legs up on the arms after sitting on a horse all day, like a pregnant woman with her legs up in the same fashion. This is why the back is so sloped as well. If you sat up straight it wouldn’t be comfortable to put your legs up like that, but in a reclined position, it’s good for blood flow and airflow.
4. “Small, light blue, rubber capsule with a tear-off end.”
Answer: It’s a cosmetics serum capsule.
5. “My coworker saw this toilet in the women’s restroom at the Huntsville Space Center. Why is it shaped this way?”
Answer: It is a woman’s urinal. It encourages women to urinate from a standing position without the need to sit on a shared seat.
6. “I’m waiting for the bank to open and they have this card facing the street. What is it used for?”
Answer: It’s definitely a safety signal. We switch ours quarterly and it’s to let other employees know that it is all clear to open. Typically we had 2 employees “open” the branch while the rest waited in the parking lot or across the street for “all clear.” The openers go in, turn off the alarm, search the building, and check everything, then set the signal.
7. “In the middle of the wall in my 1906 house”
Answer: It’s a capped-off gas line from when they used gaslighting.
8. “Found this in Guam in shallow water, 3 meters in diameter. Never seen anything like it.”
Answer: This is absolutely a rocket part.
9. “Opposite of hole-y: what is this not-really-spiky kitchen spoon for?”
Answer: It’s a spaghetti server.
10. “What is the S-shaped metal ornament on this house?”
Answer: It’s an anchor plate or wall washer. It’s meant to keep masonry in place and made aesthetically pleasing because they’re visible. There is a bolt going on the other side, in the center, holding the bricks in place.
11. “What is this piece of seemingly old tech? Found in a pile at a university.”
Answer: That’s a very old wearable computer.
12. “My house (built in the mid ’70s) has one of these in almost every room.”
Answer: The 3-prong ones were for TV and FM antennas, and the center one was for an antenna rotator to get better reception.
13. “This is an on-gate blocking road access to some cell towers. Why so many locks and how would someone even open it?”
Answer: You can open the gate by unlocking only one padlock. The way it’s designed means that multiple people can use the gate, and if one person loses their keys, only their padlock needs to be replaced. As opposed to one padlock with many keys, you’d need to give tons of people the new key.
14. “What are these shredded balls on my property?”
Answer: Juniper-hawthorn rust — it’s a fungal disease. It starts as a gall then the tentacles appear around spring or after rain. It probably won’t kill this tree but it can seriously mess up secondary host apple trees. The only way to get rid of it is to prune then burn the removed branches. Don’t forget to disinfect your tools after.
15. “A cast iron circle with raised edges and a zero”
Answer: I think it’s a support for an old waffle maker.
16. “I found this while cleaning out an old cedar closet. Had a bendy spring in the middle. Looks like it hangs on a door?”
Answer: I think it’s a vintage hat display stand. If you Google it, there are a lot that have the springy bit and the pull cord (it probably lets you pull the hat down and to the sides to examine it rather than touching the hat itself). Yours seems to be held by sliding onto a table edge rather than sitting on the table itself. So you’re holding it sideways.
17. “What is this stuff growing out of the nail holes in my ceiling?”
Answer: That’s termite frass. You’ve got bad termites and you’ll want to deal with it ASAP.
18. “I just bought a house and this weird triangle holder thing is by my kitchen sink. What is it?”
Answer: It’s a dishtowel holder. Take the corner of your dishtowel and put it to the back of the triangle, then pull down on the towel and it’s held in place.
19. “Found this buried in the garden, very tough glass.”
Answer: My father repaired TVs for decades. I can confirm this one is the glass back.
20. “I bought these at a thrift store. Thought it was a bar spoon but I’m not certain.”
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Answer: They’re ice cream spoons.
21. “I found this in our kitchen drawer when I moved in, none of my roommates have any idea. What is this thing?”
Answer: It’s a part of a tea infuser.
22. “Found these when clearing out my dad’s wardrobe. Any idea what you’d hang on them?”
23. “It is made of steel/iron and is heavier than it looks. We’re not sure if it’s a tool or some type of kitchenware.”
Answer: Apparently it’s a meat tenderizer.
24. “Delicate wooden whisk type thing that fits into a small vase item with openings on both ends. What is it? I’m so curious!”
Answer: It’s a matcha whisk and whisk holder.
Which one of these did you instantly know the purpose of? Do you have any mysterious things around your house that you can’t figure out? Share them with us and let’s solve the mystery together!
Preview photo credit MamaBearsApron / reddit
My Husband’s Ex-Wife Demanded I Pay The Bills After His Death – She Regretted That I Fulfilled Her Whims
When my husband passed away, I thought grief would be my hardest battle. I was wrong. His ex-wife, Camila, turned my loss into her opportunity, DEMANDING I PAY ALL HER BILLS. Her relentless greed drained me, but I never imagined it would lead to her BIGGEST REGRET one day.
Grief doesn’t come in neat little packages. It’s messy, raw, and relentless. When Joseph — my husband, partner, and best friend — passed away two weeks before Christmas, it felt like the world had been ripped from under me. I had Nathan, our 15-year-old son, to think about. But most days, even breathing felt impossible.
A grieving woman holding a man’s framed photo | Source: Midjourney
Joseph was the kind of man who brought light to every room. He loved fiercely and gave generously, even to people who didn’t deserve it… like his ex-wife, Camila. They had one son together, Marcus, but Camila had three other children from different relationships.
Joseph, being the man he was, made sure to treat all four kids like his own. Birthdays, holidays, school events — he was always there, always giving, and caring.
The day after the funeral, I got an email from Camila. At first, I thought it might be condolences, but of course, that would’ve been too much to expect. Instead, it was a CHRISTMAS LIST. She wanted gifts for her kids, claiming, “It’s what Joseph would’ve wanted.”
A woman holding a cellphone | Source: Midjourney
When my phone rang moments later, I knew it was her. Her voice dripped with a false sympathy that made my skin crawl.
“Wendy, darling,” Camila’s tone was saccharine sweet, “I hope you’re not overwhelmed by that list. Joseph always made sure my kids were taken care of during Christmas.”
I gripped the phone tighter, my knuckles turning white. “Camila, I’m barely holding myself together right now.”
She let out a calculated laugh. “Well, it’s not the children’s fault! They shouldn’t suffer just because Joseph isn’t here to help anymore.”
“Camila, you don’t understand. He just passed and—” I desperately voiced, but she cut me off.
“Oh, come now. Joseph would want you to honor his memory by continuing his traditions. Those children are expecting their gifts. You wouldn’t want to disappoint them, would you?”
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
The manipulation was transparent, yet it cut deep. “These are your children, too,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
“They’re JOSEPH’S children,” she corrected sharply. “Well, Marcus is. But the others… they’ve grown to love him so much. And you know how much he loved them all. I’m sure you want to prove what a good stepmother you can be. After all, he married you knowing I would always be in the picture.”
I should’ve ignored her. I should’ve said no. But then I thought about the kids. It wasn’t their fault. So, I swallowed my pride, and through tears, I went shopping for their gifts, together with my son.
Christmas came and went in a blur of grief and forced smiles. But Camila wasn’t done. Her demands became a relentless cascade, each request more audacious than the last.
A cheerful woman with a pile of gift boxes | Source: Midjourney
By February, it was piano lessons. When she called, her voice was a calculated blend of sweetness and authority. “Wendy, darling, Joseph always wanted Marcus to have music lessons. You wouldn’t want to disappoint his son, would you?”
I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of her manipulation. “Camila, I’m struggling to keep things together—”
“The kids shouldn’t have to miss out,” she interrupted. “Think about what Joseph would want.”
By Easter, it was summer camp fees. Her call came with surgical precision. “These experiences are so important for children’s development. Joseph always believed in giving kids opportunities.”
“I can’t keep doing this,” I whispered.
“Oh, Wendy,” she laughed, “you know Joseph would be heartbroken if his children missed out because of financial constraints.”
A frustrated woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
Then came the moment that broke something inside me. One day, she called, her voice dripping with honey. “Wendy, I hate to ask, but my back has been killing me. The doctor says surgery could help me be a better mom. The medical bills are astronomical, and with Joseph gone…”
Her pause was deliberate, weighted with expectation.
Of course, I paid. What else could I do? Nathan watched me, his eyes filled with pity and frustration. “Mom, why do you keep giving her money?” he’d asked once. I had no answer.
But weeks later, I stumbled across her Facebook post:
“Lipo & a tummy tuck done! Feeling FABULOUS! 🥳💃🏻“
I gripped my phone so hard, I thought it might shatter. She’d used my money for PLASTIC SURGERY. Not a medical procedure, not something for her children, but pure vanity. I felt sick, the betrayal cutting deeper than any knife.
A shocked woman holding a phone | Source: Midjourney
Nathan walked in and saw my expression. “Mom?” he asked cautiously. “What’s wrong?”
And in that moment, something inside me began to shift. A resolve. An anger.
Still, I didn’t stop helping Camila. There were kids involved — kids who came to me with scraped knees and teenage heartbreaks. Kids who hugged me tight and called me “Aunt Wendy.” They weren’t responsible for their mother’s schemes.
But then, a new demand landed in my inbox shortly after: a trip to Paris for her and the kids. The email was a masterpiece of manipulation. She sweetly reminded me, “Joseph always believed in family vacations. He wouldn’t have let the kids go without one.”
Close-up shot of a woman holding a smartphone | Source: Midjourney
I sat with that email for hours, my frustration boiling over. Nathan was battling leukemia at the time. Medical bills were drowning me, treatments were astronomical, and every single penny was a fight for survival.
The last thing I could afford was funding my husband’s ex’s extravagant getaway.
When I finally called her, my voice shook with anger and desperation. “Camila, I can’t do this anymore. I’m barely keeping my head above water as it is.”
Her laugh was cold and calculated. “Barely keeping your head above water? Oh, Wendy, you forget I know exactly how much life insurance Joseph left you. This is pocket change for you.”
A smiling woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Pocket change?” I almost screamed. “I’m spending every cent on Nathan’s treatment. He’s fighting for his life!”
Her tone hardened immediately. “So, the kids should suffer because of your POOR PLANNING? Wow, Wendy, I expected better from you. Joseph would be so disappointed.”
The mention of Joseph’s name was a punch to my gut.
“You have no shame,” I whispered.
“I have four children to think about,” she retorted. “What would people say if they knew you — Joseph’s wife — refused to help his children?”
I hung up and tears of frustration burned my eyes.
An emotional woman lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney
But as the days passed, the guilt gnawed at me. I could hear Joseph’s voice in my head, urging me to do what I could for the kids. His kindness, his generosity… they were weapons Camila knew how to wield perfectly.
Against my better judgment, I paid for the trip, hoping and PRAYING that this would be the last of her demands.
Of course, it wasn’t.
Nathan’s battle with leukemia was brutal. Chemo, hospital stays, and sleepless nights consumed every part of me. But even then, Camila’s relentless demands didn’t stop. She was like a vulture, circling, and waiting to pick at whatever remained of my willpower.
A sick boy in the hospital | Source: Midjourney
“Wendy, I need help with groceries,” she’d say, her voice dripping with false vulnerability.
“Wendy, the kids need new laptops for school,” another call would come.
“Wendy, our washing machine broke,” she’d whine, as if the world would end without my intervention.
Each call came with a new crisis, each one tugging at my frayed patience. The subtext was always clear: Joseph would have helped. Joseph always provided. Joseph would be disappointed in me.
A phone on a table flashing an incoming call | Source: Midjourney
I kept helping, telling myself it was for the kids. But with each request, a part of me died. A part of me resented the memory of Joseph’s infinite kindness that Camila so ruthlessly exploited.
And then, she pushed too far. “Wendy,” she said one day, her tone annoyingly casual, like she was asking for sugar, “we need help remodeling the kitchen. It’s falling apart.”
Something inside me snapped.
“Camila, I’m NOT funding your HGTV dreams. I can barely afford Nathan’s treatments!”
The silence that followed was electric.
She gasped, a performance of pure outrage. “I can’t believe how SELFISH you’ve become. Joseph would be ASHAMED.”
Those words. Always those words.
A furious woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Joseph is DEAD,” I said, the words feeling like broken glass in my mouth. “And you’ve been treating his memory like a credit card.”
Her gasp was theatrical. “How dare you—”
“No,” I interrupted, “how dare YOU? For years, you’ve manipulated me, guilt-tripped me, and drained every resource I have while my son fights for his life.”
She tried to interject, but I was done.
“I’m sorry, Camila,” I said coldly, each word precise and cutting. “I can’t help you anymore.” And I hung up.
She called back, left voicemails that grew increasingly desperate, and sent emails that ranged from manipulative to outright threatening. But I ignored her. Nathan needed me more than her fabricated crises.
A boy lying down in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
Several weeks passed. Thankfully, my son won his fight with leukemia, but Camila wasn’t so lucky. Her extravagant spending and piling debts finally caught up with her. Her new husband (an aspiring musician who contributed nothing to the household) left, creditors circled, and her life imploded.
She tried reaching out to me, sending long, teary emails about how hard things were. She even called, begging for help. But I didn’t respond.
Through it all, her kids drifted toward me. They saw the truth about their mother, and saw who had been there for them all along. They started calling me “Mom.” And while Camila’s world crumbled, mine grew stronger.
A frustrated woman yelling | Source: Midjourney
Ten years flew by. On Christmas Eve, I found myself in a hospital bed recovering from heart surgery. The kids — Nathan and all four of Camila’s — had promised to visit, but I didn’t expect much. They were busy with their own lives now.
Then my phone rang. It was Camila.
I hesitated but answered. “Hello?”
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” She shrieked.
“Excuse me?”
“You turned my children against me!”
“Camila, I don’t understand what you’re talking about…”
But then the door burst open, and her oldest son, Marcus, swiftly took the phone from my hand. His touch was gentle, but his eyes burned with a protective fury I’d never seen before.
A startled woman engaged in a phone call | Source: Midjourney
“Mom, you need to rest. We’ll talk to her later,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument as he ended the call. The way he said “her” made it clear he was distancing himself from any maternal connection to Camila.
Four of my “foster” kids and my Nathan crowded into my hospital room, their faces radiant with love and warmth. Marcus stepped forward first, setting down an elaborate bouquet of white roses that looked carefully chosen. The younger ones followed, their arms filled with colorful balloons that bobbed and danced with their movement.
“We wouldn’t miss this for the world, Mom,” Nathan said.
“Oh, my darlings!” I exclaimed, tears welling up in my eyes. “You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble!”
An emotional woman | Source: Midjourney
They surrounded my bed in a massive group hug, their collective embrace feeling like a shield of love and protection. The youngest, tears glistening in her eyes, whispered, “We’re family. We take care of each other.”
Marcus squeezed my hand. “Christmas isn’t Christmas without you. So we’re taking you home.”
The others nodded in unison.
That evening, they whisked me home. We sat around the fireplace, sharing stories and memories.
“What happened to your mother?” I asked cautiously. “She sounded so furious when she called.”
They exchanged glances before Marcus spoke up. “After you stopped supporting her, she tried to guilt us into giving her money. She even said, ‘You owe me. I raised you!’” He shook his head. “We stopped answering her calls.”
A frustrated young man | Source: Pexels
“She’s become desperate,” another added. “Calling old friends and distant relatives, trying to get money.”
“She tried to sue a cosmetic surgeon,” another chimed in, laughing. “But that didn’t go well.”
The youngest looked at me, her eyes deep with emotion. “We learned what real love looks like from you. Not from her.”
“She saw people as transactions,” Marcus added, squeezing my hand gently. “You showed us that love has no price tag.”
“She’s alone now,” another said softly. “But we’re here, Mom. We’re with you.”
A distressed teenage girl | Source: Pexels
I looked around the table, my heart brimming with joy and peace. Christmas isn’t about gifts or obligations. It’s about the family you build, and the people who choose to stay, love, and grow with you.
For the first time in years, I felt truly at peace. As for Camila, I really don’t care about her now. She can live with her regrets, but I hope that someday, she realizes the depth of the damage she’s done to herself by being greedy and manipulative.
An emotional, teary-eyed senior woman | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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