So, the day I returned to work after a year-long absence, I was asked to produce a blog post. Producing anything other than carbon dioxide felt like a feat, so I turned to Google for some help.

As you can see, I was not feeling incredibly inspired in my Google search. The immediate result was pretty fortuitous, however, for once. Instead of being waylaid by a slew of ads for buying eggs at discount prices in bulk, I was offered the definition of an oval. While everyone knows the shape, did you know that the word comes from the Latin for egg, which means “having the shape of an egg?” This immediately made me wonder why we don’t call eggs ovals.

“Boil me an oval, dear.”

Thinking of boiled eggs made me squirm a bit. The thing is, I enjoy boiled eggs. I like the shape of an egg, holding them, cracking them. I strive to crack a boiled egg in a manner that allows me to peel the shell off in one sheet of eggshell, and I am disappointed if I fail and have to peck and peel bits and flakes off. The membrane inside is disgusting to me, and I try not to touch it. If it comes off the shell, and I have to peel it off – I obsessively wash my hands and the egg afterwards.

I am fairly certain that most people don’t have an opinion about boiled eggs at all, but they hold a special place in my strange little heart.

Maybe I should put my odd egg fascination into perspective. When I was a child, watching Nickelodeon (kids’ network in the USA), I viewed an animated short by Paul Driessen. He made a fantastic short featuring a man sitting down to enjoy a hard-boiled egg. Watch it, enjoy. Oh, and enjoy your holiday.