Sooooo.....yesterday I meal prepped. I was on top of my game. Walking with a little swagger in my step for being so proactive. Except, right before I crawled into bed, disaster struck! You see, it suddenly occurred to me that I forgot to boil the eggs. I tossed a few (like 9) in a pot, turned on the water and went upstairs to occupy myself for a few minutes while they finished cooking. (This is where I may have gone wrong.) Now, in the event that you have never boiled an egg before, you should know that the total cooking time is approx 15-20 mins...MAX! One bath, 10 filed nails, 3 returned emails, a property search and 45 mins of a scarey movie later....I remembered the eggs. My heart stopped. The horrifying visions of burnt pans and singed egg remnants flashed before my very eyes! I quickly came to the most logical and efficient conclusion....Shawn, can you please take the eggs the stove? I semi-innocently cooed down the stairs. And then...I waited. Now, its not like I actually knew what would come next or how this would all play out, but I must admit, I had a few suspicions. Not even 30 seconds seconds after my guilt laden request, I heard it. The terrifying boom! The unsettling crack! The echo of eggs shells gone awry! It was enough to give a girl nightmares I tell ya. I sat there in suspense trying to imagine the war-zone that was transpiring in my kitchen. I heard a yelp followed by a slew of curse words. And then.....the unthinkable happened! He came upstairs. Holy mother of Mercy! The man was literally a causality of my cooking! He walked in the room with his arms outstretched and a look of absolute HORROR on his face. His zombie-like moments and stiff arms were not only unnatural looking but carried an odor with them that literally offended your senses. To his demise (and my ignorance), the poor man had already removed his shirt for the evening in anticipation of a calm and relaxing closure to the day, leaving his bare chest and arms completely exposed. Boy was that guy wrong! Here in my bedroom, stood a grown man, half dressed, in complete shock, with yolk confetti strewn through his hair and eggshells embedded, yes EMBEDDED in his chest, just waiting for my reaction. People I gotta tell ya...there was only one thing to do...I LAUGHED! I burst into a full belly laugh. I laughed until it hurt. I laughed until it cried. I laughed until I couldnt even remember why I was laughing. And as I attempted to pull myself together, I caught another glimpse of this scramble covered statue and I laughed some more. I somehow managed to pull myself together enough to ask him what in the heck happened he bitterly hissed 4 words at me...I. Got. Egg. Shrapnel-d. Bless my heart, I couldnt help it. I was laughing..again. Egg Shrapnel? Mother of all that is holy...he was a hot stinky mess! He stormed into the bathroom where he proceeded to try and remove said shrapnel from his chest. I started the shower for him, handed him a clean towel and then quickly slinked passed him and started down the stairs to see the damage in my kitchen. (if the dirty dozen could do THAT to a grown man, I can only imagine what the rest of the kitchen looks like) Before I even hit the landing I was assaulted with...THE SMELL. Charred. Rotten. Robust. I will have nightmares for months. Anyway, I slowly crept into the kitchen and braced myself for the scene of the fallout. Now friends, I do not exaggerate when I tell you this now...it was EGGPOCALYPSE! I heard the theme music from Psycho. It was in the house plants. It was on the ceiling. Somehow it had even made an appearance on living room fan?!? It was total and complete ANNIHILATION! This carton of chaos had wrecked complete havoc in my freshly cleaned house. My vision did that fast zooming in and out. And for a second, I was a slightly tempted to just run right back upstairs (after all, isnt running up the stairs what you do in horror movies?) Whats a girl to do?!? Yep! That is correct! I knew exactly how to handle this situation, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and....whistled for THE DOG! Standing 2.5, weighing in at a beefy 67 lbs, this brute absolutely LOVES eggs. While I scoured and scrubbed walls, he literally mopped the floor..with his tongue. When it was all done, the smoke had cleared (literally), the shell shock had worn off and the mess was merely a memory...I wearily climbed the stairs back to my bedroom wondering exactly just how long I will be finding little white reminders of this fiasco and if Shawn is every going to let me live this down?!? (it even occurred to me that poor man might need actual therapy if he ever wanted to eat an egg again) Although they were never actually present, my children will retell this story to you with such glory and vibrance that you would think they saw the whole thing. (And they LOVE to tell it.) I am officially known as The Egg-Slayer. I am starting to think that maybe I should leave the meal prep to the professionals...or, we could just order a pizza;-) #overeasyisoverrated #wouldyoulikethosewelldone #eggshrapnelshowdown #egghausted #mealprepgonewrong
Posted on: Tue, 20 Jan 2015 19:29:02 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015