The quiet of this balmy July evening just took a hit from fireworks down at the beach. The kid in me never minds catching a few more signs and wonders in the skies, even if manmade.
Never thought it would remind me of breakfast, however.
Wanted what I call a “puddin’ egg,” boiled neither hard, nor runny. Just wanted the egg white cooked with a mushy yolk in the middle.
After peeling away some of the shell, I noticed part of the egg seemed to have missed the boiling water level, leaving some of the white looking milky and sloshy.
Not to worry.
I’ll just finish peeling and pop it into the microwave, milky side up for 20 seconds.
While it wouldn’t be mushy, at least the egg wouldn’t run and ruin the toast.
Moot point, since I’d already over-browned it.
Burned the toast.
Back to the egg.
Put my fork into the egg and got the 4th of July all over me.
It exploded, raining egg confetti, pelting my face with HOT yellow flecks.
I yelped and swatted away, one hen’s revenge.
Tomorrow, I think I’ll go to Jim’s for a donut before church.
Beats showing up with egg on my face.
No need to look so needy at the altar.
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