Leftover egg yolks. Not enough for a yellow cake, but just the right number for vanilla pudding. Last time I made it, there were a few lumps. Not lumps like the time Jeff tried to make frozen custard and instead made maple scrambled egg ice cream, which would have been better with bits of bacon in it served on top of biscuits. But still a bit on the lumpy side. Time to get it right.
Egg yolks, sugar, milk heating on the stove, additional eggs… wait, where are the eggs?
“We’re out of eggs.”
“But, we had three eggs left.”
“I ate them for breakfast.”
“I’m allowed to have breakfast.”
“But you didn’t tell me you finished the eggs. I was out. I could have stopped to get eggs earlier. You need to communicate.”
“But you’re going to the store later.”
“But I’m making pudding now.”
“I feel like I’m not allowed to eat anymore.”
“You can eat. You just need to communicate. We cannot run out of eggs.”
Remember how when you were young you were sure that marriage was all about romance and foot rubs? Remember how you were going to build a marriage on a foundation of trust, and you were never going to lose your sense of spontaneity and romance?
Little did you suspect that marriage would be all about making sure to tell your spouse that you had eggs for breakfast.