I can't recall how long it's been

since I made a boiled egg.

I was cleaning out the fridge at work today because it smelled like something died in there. This involved two boiled eggs of indeterminate age that belonged to Laura. And it gave me quite a craving for an egg salad sandwhich. In retrospect, that is quite the most distusting inspiration for an evening meal ever.

However, while peeling my freshly boiled eggs (just making it clear I didn't snafu Laura's scary eggs for my evening repast), I suddenly wondered how long it had been since I had last peeled a boiled egg. The last time I can recall doing it, particularly, was when I lived in Edinburgh and worked at the bank. I used to make myself egg salad sandwiches to take to work at least once a week. This is because I refuse to eat egg salad sandwiches made by other people because the slightest bit of crunch that indicates eggshell in the sandwich makes me want to throw up. It was in Scotland I learned that there are people who hate the smell of egg sandwiches even more than the smell of tuna ones to the extent to which it was implied that i wasn't very community-minded for bringing such a smelly lunch. I don't recall Canadians thinking this way, but perhaps I just missed out on hearing it, seeing as I ate lunch at home all the way through elementary and high schoool.

Now, I am sure I must have made at least one boiled egg in the intervening 3 years, but I can't recall doing so. And now all my readers know all my thoughts on boiled eggs. I am sure you are all feeling fascinated, enlightened and terribly entertained.