This morning I knew I was really tired after as little as two hours of sleep because the dogs barked all night and the wild creatures had been roaming around in the light of the blue moon. I guess it keep the wild side of this gal roaming as well.
As I peeled myself off the couch and started the coffee pot I pulled out my small cast iron skillet. I love this little gem because it was what my father used for most of his hunting years. Each time I touch the handle I remember him. Oh Well, back to make a couple of fried eggs and hoping to greet the day. As the skillet heated up with a nice bit of butter I smacked the freshly gathered egg on the side of the pan as I have done a thousand times before. It did not crack. I smacked it a bit harder but still with the care of not wishing to have shell in the pan. Nothing. Crap I know I am feeling a tad weak but seriously...
With the lack of patience that can of late come upon me quickly I SMACK the egg on the black metal side of the pan with more force then I would like to admit and just then it bounced out of my hand and hit the floor.... OH MY GOSH GRACE - you silly goose you took the wooden egg out of the nesting box .... I think it is time to rest and get a grip on things....
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