I’ve been having some trouble getting to sleep the past few weeks. Once I fall asleep, I sleep wonderfully, but actually getting to sleep has been difficult. As you might suspect, this tends to lead to a certain degree of difficulty in getting up the next morning, which means rushing through Wylie’s morning walk, eating a very quick breakfast, and praying that there haven’t been any accidents between home and the office. (Even during the summer, someone having the most minor of mechanical difficulties can back traffic up for 20 miles. During the school year, it’s a good day when the sea of brake lights only goes back 20 miles.)
So on Thursday night I decided to plan ahead and made a few hard-boiled eggs. Not the most filling breakfast, but combine it with a bit of milk and perhaps a granola bar and it’ll do the trick.
A couple hours later, just as I was getting ready to go to bed, there was an explosion in the kitchen. While I was trying to figure out what the heck was going on, another egg exploded, this time knocking the lid off the pan.
I’ll bet you didn’t know eggs would explode that way either, did you?