Seriously. If you could see me now my head is hanging in shame. I tried, and failed, again at the elusive art of boiling eggs.
I read up on it on the internet. I took the advice of others the last time I posted about my epic failure. I was even tempted to search for a YouTube video on the topic (M’s go-to source for doing just about everything he is not sure he knows how to do), but that seemed excessive.
When I earlier I again had a messy gooey half-boiled egg on my hands, I decided to do the smart thing.
I bought two dozen already hard boiled eggs at Costco. At least they are organic eggs. At least they are already shelled. At least they are not mocking me in my hopelessness with egg boiling.
Maybe I should have gone to YouTube. Maybe then I would not feel like such an idiot. But I’ll get over it. Tomorrow I can enjoy my spinach salad with my precooked boiled eggs and pretend I made them myself. No one asks if I cooked them myself, right? Everyone just assumes a middle aged woman can boil a f–king egg.
It’s our little secret that I apparently cannot.