I’ve not been boiling as many eggs as I would have liked. They’re good to have ready-boiled, for a quick gobble when you’re in a hurry and hungry at the same time. They can also be served slowly, obviously. Whichever way you look at the eggs, it’s handy to have some standing by.
But these days I say to myself that I will boil some before lunch. And then I’m starving and I feel I can’t take the time, so will do the eggs tomorrow, and before I know it it’s next week.
It struck me the other day, that while I talked quite a bit about boiling eggs during my first [public] Bookwitch days, I not only ended up with more eggs to eat, but I ended up with more blog posts. Because back then the two went together.
The kitchen table was my office – well before this new fad of WFH – because it was so convenient to be in the middle of things, and I could write while the eggs boiled.
And then I moved away from the kitchen when I got too fed up with people stopping by ‘my office’ and even having meals right next to me. Or simply talking to me. That was, if not the end of boiled eggs, at least the beginning of the end of endless eggs.
These days I can’t sit down to write while they boil merrily away on the cooker, nor do I engage in boiling while engrossed in some new masterpiece on here.
I suppose I could hire someone to boil for me..?