Well, my mother is floating eggs. Worse yet, she’s content floating eggs.
Having accompanied me down to my place for a holiday from housework, paperwork and all other kinds of work, she is spending her first morning in Florida floating eggs around a dishpan to test if there’s still “viable.”
Two points should be taken from this: 1.) My oddity is not a fluke but a matter of genetics, and 2.) If ever dunked in a dishpan, I’d sink like a rock.
I’m ready for 2017, my friends.