Ever have a fortunate/unfortunate morning? We had one yesterday, Tuesday, February 3, 2015 BC (Before Coffee). Wanna hear it? Here goes.
Fortunately, the morning dawned clear, bright and beautiful. Unfortunately it was a really crisp 25 degrees and we discovered we were out of propane. (We have already moved into our RV and getting ready for the road).
Unfortunately, we have a gas stove. Fortunately we have an electric skillet. I like a boiled egg for breakfast, so Mike filled the skillet with water and placed a couple of eggs within.
Unfortunately, while peeling the eggs, he discovered they were not quite done. Fortunately we have a microwave oven. Verrry carefffully, he gave the eggs a brief few seconds. When he removed them, they looked simply Maaahvelous Dahling.
Unfortunately, when I bit into the egg, it exploded in my face. Fortunately, after a really, really big scream, I nearly died from laughing. Mike was befuddled as he solicitously picked egg off my face, my clothes, and the floor. Was I hurt or just hysterical?
Neither. The image that kept going through my mind of this crazy breakfast crisis was so ludicrous I couldn’t stop laughing, even though our impromptu important first meal was history.
Fortunately, within moments of the egg-splosion, there came a knock on the door. It was Henry and Tammy (son/dtr in law), bearing piping hot Jack’s biscuits and coffee – with a ton of cream, like I like it.
Fortunately, my gratitude knew no end and I tried to fall upon them with open arms. Unfortunately, Tammy held me at arm’s length and began brushing tiny egg crumbs from my hair.
Unfortunately, these bazaar incidents have happened throughout my adult life. Just ask Mike’s sisters. They have a stockpile of stranger than fiction anecdotes just because I married into the family. And they love me anyway.
Anyway, back when Mike and I first married, I was cooking noodles, as in mac n cheese, I always test for doneness by spearing one little subject with a fork tine and biting verrry carefully into it. After all, it is exceedingly hot because it has just been fished out of boiling water. Then, just as a tentative tooth pierced the center of the pasta, a Vesuvius of fiery water shot up my nose, scalding the tender membranes. But I was okay. After the requisite scream of agony there were no lasting effects. I just home-doctored it. No physician would ever have believed it even if I wasn’t too humiliated to go.
So, you see, Dear Friend, incidents such as the exploding egg for breakfast are just another day at the office-of-life for us. Mike hardly batted an eye.