Just Me: Black Eggs and Ham

I’m a forgetful person, I’ve come to grips with it. There’s a reason why I wear everything important on a lanyard and hang it around my neck like a crazy person. I’m not a dumb person. I went to graduate school and got a master’s degree in Cell and Molecular Biology. Ten years later, I can still describe in detail the expression of DNA to the production of proteins. I can remember those things, but ask me where I put my keys and I draw a blank. You can literally hand me my cell phone and wait five minutes. If it’s not in my pocket, most likely, I will have absolutely no memory of putting it down anywhere. I really have to focus on mundane tasks and repeat it to myself “check on the desk” a couple of times to make some sort of memory impression. Okay, that’s the background, here’s the story.

This past week, I woke up at three in the morning after falling asleep at 6 pm the day before. Energized, I hit my to-do list with unbridled energy. By the time lunchtime had arrived, I had done three loads of laundry, vacuumed, swept and mopped…it was awesome. In the midst of all that, I had also put some eggs on the stove to hardboil for my salads at work. Remember that detail…because I didn’t.

My sister asked me to meet her at the mall on the other side of the island. I had taken some pictures of her twin daughters for her to use for their 1st birthday invitations. We met at the mall, designed some invitations…and then she asked if I wanted to eat lunch. Sure. I love lunch. We went to California Pizza Kitchen, one of absolute faves, and had the most scrumptious lunch. Oh, diet begone…I had the artichoke dip and fettucine alfredo pasta. So, almost three hours after leaving home, I finally get in my car to make the drive home…stuffed and content.

Should I stop at the store? Do I need anything? I know I have enough eggs….eggs…why does eggs keep nagging my mind…

OMG!!!

I have a clear memory of putting eggs in a small pot of water on the stove to boil and I KNOW i never went back. It’s now three hours later. I called Scott…no answer. I called my mother-in-law…she’s at work. I called my brother-in-law….wait, Scott is finally calling me back. He’s at church. I tell him to race home. He hangs up immediately and I’m left driving on the H-3 with white knuckles clutching the steering wheel. I call my sister and explain what I did and there’s some frightening silence interrupted by “Oh no”s. I ask for prayer…but what do I pray for. What’s the minimum damage I can pray for. We just got a new roommate who is in Maui on spring break. How bad would I feel having to say “hey there, I’m sorry but your stuff kind of got burned up in a small house fire.” And, wait, if the kitchen did catch fire, wouldn’t our neighbors notice and call the fire department. How come no one called us? Wait, they don’t have our phone numbers….These are the thoughts that cross my mind. Expect the worst, pray for the best.

The most scared twenty minute drive of my life.

Scott got home ten minutes before I did. A scorched pot…a really bad smell…but that was it. God is great…AMEN!!! I know that God delivered me out of this one. So, thankfully, my wonderful husband was just shaking his head in bewilderment and looking at the exploded egg pieces over our kitchen. He also brought up that last week, I called him at four in the morning because I remembered that I had left a chicken baking in the oven six hours prior (that he had already discovered and taken out). And I haven’t used the stove since this little incident, I am going to come up with some system…maybe a big stop sign on our front door.

It’s odd because I swear I put three eggs in the pot but now there’s only two. And we found small pieces of egg and egg shells on the floor and walls…some by the piano which is not only ten feet away from the stove, but it’s not even in eyesight of the stove…somehow the egg piece must have had a curved flight. Still, all the egg shards don’t quite add up to the missing egg.

Eggs anyone? (we added the water to cool it down before trashing it)

And yesterday, I found some still on the wall and on top of the fridge:
(top of fridge)

(cupboard door)