Daytime Moody takes care of her grandma and Uncle.
My Grandma, who has had total knee replacement surgery, and my uncle, who is mentally handicapped, need company, a meds distributor, a lunch chef, and a watchdog during the day. Its very mind numbing. A barrage of daytime TV, general generation gap misunderstandings, and folksy racism make up part of my daytime regime.
Being the lunch chef is where todays hilarity began. I can cook elaborate meals from scratch but apparently I can't boil eggs. What is wrong with me?
Egg salad should not be a daunting task, but i guess I got distracted. Probably by something shiny. Never-the-less. I lost track of time. Specifically the amount of time the eggs were boiling. For fear of over boiling eggs (can you over boil eggs?) I took them off the burner.
Peeling eggs that are still gooey is a near-impossible task. Actually it becomes a complete pile of fail and eggs. And if you didn't know fail and eggs looks likes a semi soft chicken embryo suspended between two mildly cooked egg whites. Me being the genius moody I am I needed double the proof...
Afraid to face the grand matriarch of my family with being an egg based failure, I hatched a plan to still use all of the eggs. While boiling the still shelled eggs would be easy, how do you cook open semi-soft eggs still halfly in the shell? Oh goodness, why didn't i just throw them away?
Apparently microwaving eggs so close to freedom is not a good idea. Sure the first minute or so is grand, but then the popping begins. The exploding. The tears. The 30 second countdown became violent, a nail biter. I can't believe this is what I'm reduced to. The microwaved eggs were still usable. And apparently mustard covers up the taste of radiation burnt eggs.
Well no one was ever the wiser ans I was left with a feeling of strange satisfaction of Macgyvering eggs and shame for... well everything else.
Don't judge me.