The Yolk's On Me

So it's Tuesday.  And I almost got killed by an egg.

   

That may be a slight exaggeration.  But, it could have happened.  You never know when a really stupid death is going to spring out at you and make you the cautionary tale of the decade.  It happens all the time. 

 

I leave for work at a ridiculously early hour.  As you can imagine, there is little time for a hearty breakfast.  I pretty much devote the time between the final beating of the snooze button and starting the truck to making myself presentable for the day.  There are those who would argue my success rate with this particular endeavor.  But, I make the effort.

Since I don't really eat much during the day, breakfast is kind of a "must," though.  So I try to create morning-type delicacies which can be consumed on the road.  Every Sunday, I scramble up a bunch of eggs, dump them in a baking pan and toss 'em in the oven.  I then slice them up into egg patties and pop them in the fridge.  For the rest of the week, I can toast up a bagel, heat up the eggs with some vegetarian bacon, add a little cheese and have myself a nice breakfast sandwich that is portable and warm on chilly morning commutes.

Pretty brilliant, if I do say so myself.

Today, though, there was an "incident."  I had just passed the toll booth and was making my way down the Maine Turnpike, bound for another day of teaching the masses, when a loose piece of egg escaped the confines of the bagel.  I never really saw it since it is pretty dark at that hour, however I clearly felt it hit my leg.  I judged from the impact of the fleeing breakfast fare that it was approximately the circumference of my head.  There still seemed to be a goodly amount of egg left in my sandwich...but that meant nothing.  There was a large piece of scrambled egg somewhere loose in my car.

From that moment on, I was completely immersed in egg-related panic.  I found myself consumed by worry.  Responsible driving was no longer my main concern.  At 70 miles per hour, I was simply unable to let go of the disastrous possibilities.

I worried about whether or not the egg was still clinging to my pantleg and leaving a horrid stain which would never, ever come out.

I worried that the egg had bounced off my leg and slithered under the seat where it would be forgotten and fester until I had to simply burn the interior of the vehicle to rid myself of the odor.

I worried that this giant piece of egg would maneuver itself underneath my boot and cling there, just waiting for me to step onto the tiled floors of the school.  From there, it would release it's slippery, eggy essence and cause me to slide ten full feet before crashing into the drinking fountain, falling on my fanny and attracting the attention of every cell phone camera within range.  The YouTube video would be shown for years to come and I would have to live the rest of my life as The Sliding Egg Lady.

At every opportunity, I tried to locate this piece of egg.  As the forty minute commute stretched out before me, this egg grew to mythic proportions and its ability to ruin my life became ever more frightening.  The road, my fellow commuters, any lurking hazards such as potholes or easily accessible doughnut shops were given little to no consideration.  It was all about the Killer Egg.  I hated that egg.  It was ruining my life.  

And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find it.

When I finally arrived at school, the first order of business was to find that offending piece of protein and give it the eviction it so richly deserved.  I looked down upon the floor of my vehicle and, in the now bright light of morning, saw the thing that almost took my life with its ability to distract me from safer driving.  Perhaps predictably, it was no bigger than my thumbnail. 

I found this rather hard to believe.  Nothing so teeny could have hit my calf with such force, after all.  No.  This was just a trick on the part of the egg to lull me into thinking that there wasn't a slab of the scrambled stuff lurking under the car seat.  Maybe even waiting in ambush...and laughing at me.

And so it was that all the arriving buses and the parents dropping off their little darlings for the school day were greeted by the sight of The Sheep's backside as it protruded from the driver's side of her car while her upper body was engaged in a full on Egg Hunt.  This is how anyone would want to start their school day, right?

And no.  There was no more egg.  I am delusional.  But, I still can't help thinking that the egg somehow won...

Lest you spend the rest of your evening working on the committal papers for me, I'll see if I can't distract you with something "widdle."  Everyone is a sucker for the widdle things.  You'll forget all about my egg issues.

See?  You don't even remember what we were talking about do you?

These are the Even More Widdle Baby Sox, finished today as I pedaled away on the exercise bike.  And, just for the record, if anyone is wondering whether or not it is possible to do a Kitchener Stitch while riding the stationary bike, the answer is, "yes."  It is very possible.  If I can do it, anyone can.  

We are still fiddling with the baby sock pattern, but I think I have it licked.  One, maybe two more pair and I'll be a champ with this.  OK.  Maybe four or five.  Or ten...

Great.  Just when I get you away from thinking about Crazy Egg, I reveal my Obsessive/Compulsive Knitting Of The Widdle.  I'm running out of distractions at this point.

Tomorrow, I'm bringing toast to work.

SA