Lately I can’t seem to keep a hold on eggs. I feel like they have a vendetta against me since they don’t want to stay in my hands anymore. That, or gravity has decided to exert a stronger pull just on raw eggs.
Granted, I’ve dropped my share of eggs over the years, but in the last month or so, I’ve dropped them four times.
The first time, I had them in a handled glass and I was beating them with a fork. I sloshed them all over the counter, down the cabinets, and onto the floor.
The second time, I was making breakfast and dropped two of them. Let me give you a little advice–when you drop eggs, don’t try to catch them by bumping up against the kitchen counter with your body. That just breaks them more and slimes them on you. Yuk!
The next time it was just the run-of-the-mill drop on the floor with resulting slime mess.
Cleaning up a splatted egg is one of the more difficult cleanup jobs around. I mean, who can clean slime? Did you know the slimy egg white part is also called albumen? You’ve probably heard of that.
How about glaire? Glare (pun intended) is what I want to do whenever I’m faced with the task of cleaning up the viscid gunk on the floor.
Or on the garage floor as was the case today. I didn’t drop one egg–I dropped 18. Splat!
I knew it was going to happen because I didn’t listen to that little voice in my head telling me not to put the pack of batteries on top of the egg container the way I did. When I did it, I thought to myself that I shouldn’t have them there. The voice said, “Turn the batteries over.”
I ignored it. I opened the car door to remove other stuff, and the eggs crashed to the garage floor.
This time I tried cleaning it up with my flat vegetable scooper-upper thingy.
It sorta worked, but the slime still ran all around.
On an up note, the tomatoes in the pic look great!
Here’s what I dragged into the house.
I managed to save 9.
Going forward, I’ll listen to the little voice, and I’ll try to keep the eggs where they belong rather than in the floor if gravity will cooperate with me.