My Brand of Crazy
Today I didn't leave the house once, and it was so nice. I rearranged some things in the living room so Amelia's Christmas gifts will fit better, played "craft" with her and some other games, and baked - french bread and dog treats, among other things. I was cracking an egg to use for the top of the french bread when I noticed myself cringing. I realized it has become second nature to me to do that in recent years. Every time I crack an egg, I do a mental cringe and hold my breath.
No, I do not feel guilty that that egg could have been a chick, nor do I take an indignant stance to the hormones given to chickens. (I'm all for animal rights and organic food, but realistically I just do NOT have time for that in my day right now.) The reason I cringe when I crack an egg is because I fear that this will be the time.....
that someone put the wrong egg in the ones to go to the market, and inside MY egg, which should contain a relatively benign egg white and yolk, is a dead chick.
UGH. That was really hard to type. I am traumatized by the mere act of writing it. I don't know why I fear this, but there is a part of me that is certain that one day, the wrong egg is going to be in my carton and I will absolutely freak out when that happens. I have no idea where this comes from, I have never heard of that happening to anyone (and if you have, please don't tell me!). I sort of think it was borne during my biology class in college, much the same as my trepidation that someday, I may somehow ingest a tapeworm and later, after many years of unexplained weight loss, find it in my underwear when I go to the bathroom (yeah, thanks a LOT for that one, Dr. Rogers. Really.).
Anyhow, I got to thinking about other irrational fears I have, as later on in the day I prepared a turkey for roasting. Mark had to leave the room as I unwrapped the bird (he just can't handle meat on the bone, lol). It's not my favorite thing to make either, but when I found a 20-pound turkey at Hilander on Friday for $10, the bargain hunter in me couldn't pass it up.
I unwrapped the old girl (guy? IDK.) and set it in the sink. I turned it on end and peered into the cavity, noting the neck and giblets inside. Why do they have to put the neck in? There's really not enough meat to make it worthwhile, and it just makes it too realistic for my liking. I did manage to refrain from dry heaving as I used tongs to remove the neck and pouch of giblets - no way was I touching those with my fingers (see? another irrational fear. I don't know what could happen that would be so horrible if I touched them, but my mind is convinced something would). I threw them in the trash and set the bird on the roasting rack. Ugh. Now it really looked like a turkey. I really much prefer beef or pork, that looks nothing like what it came from by the time you buy it! I don't usually buy whole turkeys or chickens though, as much as I hate to admit DH is right, they do freak me out a bit, especially when you boil them and you pick through and see all the vertabrae.
Anyway, I made it through all of my cooking without coming face to face with any disembodied chickens hidden in egg shells, and without having to touch any turkey livers.
Other irrational fears:
- That the oven will explode if I open it as it's relighting.
- That I am going to accidently put the car in drive when it should be in reverse or vice versa, and run over someone
- That I will go out to the kitchen one night and some Freddy Krueger type will be standing at the back door.
- That something will happen if I reach into a sink full of dishwater to pull the plug (not sure what, mostly just that it's gross, I think). I use my tongs for this as well.
- That if I eat a cough drop at bedtime, I will fall asleep with it in my mouth and choke on it before it dissolves.
P.S. Not sure it was such a great idea to post this as night....am wondering what kind of dreams I'm going to have now, lol!
Couponing, crafting, and general ramblings.
