Eggs.

Did you ever put food in your crockpot and forget about it?

I don’t mean that time I put two raw eggs in my crockpot to keep them from rolling off the table till I was ready to put them in the bowl and forgot I’d done it, and then looked all over the kitchen for them and finally decided I’d dreamed about getting them out of the refrigerator in the first place and got two more and we found the two eggs in the crockpot WEEKS later and only then because they put out a smell that actually had feelers. . . .

No, I don’t mean that time.

I mean, did you ever put food in your crockpot, for dinner, and forget you did it?

Um, me either.

I still feel kinda bad about accusing the children of taking those two eggs and playing with them and then hiding them from me.

Yes, those two crockpot eggs smelled really bad. But not as bad as the Easter egg we found in the middle of the summer. The bunny had hidden it under the sofa, and nobody found it till someone sat on the sofa ‘just right’ and cracked it.

Don’t ever hide Easter eggs under upholstered furniture unless you’ve got a really good memory.

We had to open all the windows and leave the house for the rest of the afternoon.

It smelled like a sulphur bomb had exploded in a state park outhouse.

This was the same sofa the snake hid under. We discarded it after the Easter egg incident.

None of us was sorry to see that sofa go. I had sewn little denim patches over all the holes, in case the snake had laid eggs in the springs and the baby snakes could pop through and tickle us as we napped. It was hideous before the patches and even uglier with misshapen denim sprinkled haphazardly all over it.

Now, I have to count my final exams for tonight and try to figure out what to have for dinner.

I had something planned but I, um, well, never mind.


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