But no, today I managed to take it to another level. I’m blaming it on the hormones, that’s all I’m saying. Went out to the chicken coop, grabbed a few eggs (no, I’m not explaining the whole story of where the chicken coop came from ~ try to stay focused here, OK?), brought them inside, washed ’em up, stuck ’em in a small pan of water (that’s a key point ~ don’t miss it), and went off to argue with the wood stove. 45 minutes later, there are popping noises coming from the kitchen and I still don’t have a fire going anyway.
Off to investigate, only to discover that the water has completely boiled away, the eggs have exploded, and the charred shells are encrusted to the bottom of the pan. Yay, me! Swimming upstream against a hard current today, I am.