Posted: Thusday 1st October, 2026
Written: December 2024
I missed my bus for runny eggs.
Undercooked, runny eggs. I nearly cried. I think the only reason I didn’t (cry) is because I didn’t have time to. I bloody well had to haul my ass over to a 3-hour, 8am law seminar and my solution in that instance was to run back home, wake gman and ask him and Ori to get up and drive me. They are bloody troopers those two. Being busy is so good cos it feels so productive, but damn it’s hard and it’s tiring and the prep and the logistics feel like half the slog. Especially in December. And buses that run early, where you miss them if you get to the bus stop on time, are a fucking nuisance.
I was truly ropable. Except for the fact that it is not the first time this has happened, so of course I should know to take that into consideration and get to the bus stop early. But you and I both know, if I get to the bus stop early, the bus is guaranteed to be late. So what’s the point? Huh? What’s the goddamn point?
Getting to my law seminar. That’s the point. Getting there for an 8am start, when you worked until late the night before. Ok ok. Not late. Until 9.30pm which, as a parent of a 6-year-old, feels rather late! And it’s not just about getting there, it’s about getting there prepared. That’s the key. Prepared means with my homemade decaf iced long black in my Fressko keep cup – more on that later, but suffice it to say they are the best keep cups hands down – and my iced water, because the humidity is relentless at the moment, and obviously my eggs and my textbook and my notes and my laptop and my sanity. It’s a heavy load, let me tell you.
Anyway, I got there on time thanks to my boys (they are angels, I can’t stress that enough) and in our break I smugly sat back, pulled my coffee close and cracked one of my eggs. I love eggs with coffee. They were born to be together. Cooked eggs that is. Runny eggs on the other hand, where the egg white is still somewhat transparent, is a goddamn egg fail. It was crushing. I got up with enough time and forethought to put on water to boil and cook my eggs, but apparently not enough time to consider if I had actually cooked them through.
Now I am not sure if it is a good sign of defeat when, instead of falling apart, which when you’re running on cortisol and caffeine is a very natural response, my reaction instead was to laugh and roll my eyes. But let me be clear, this is not because I am a casual, easy-going, well-adjusted human. No no. Nor is it because I realise the gravity of this situation is, in reality, not that great in the grand scheme of things. It is because it is all just so goddamn expected. Like finding out your next 3-hour law exam is on your 40th birthday, in the afternoon I might add. Of fucking course it is. Of course I have gone to the trouble of making these eggs this morning and of course I missed my bus because of the time it took and so of course, of fucking course they are not properly cooked through. I’m not sure whether I am growing up and maturing or if maybe I am just not learning in the first place that maybe I should give it all up?
Not one to be beaten though, I came up with a plan. You see we have these law seminars twice each semester and attendance is mandatory, so they have a little tea and coffee stand all set up for us. So I’m thinking I’ll use the boiling water from the urn to cook my eggs that little bit further. That’ll work right? Wrong. We were the first seminar of the morning so of course the urn of plain hot water had not heated up yet. It was not even lukewarm. The coffee urn on the other hand was toasty. Did I do it? Of course I did. I filled a cup with hot, instant coffee and dropped my eggs in, in the vain hope it would finish the job. I mean I did just say I love my coffee with my eggs and that they were born to be together, did I not?
Well. Needless to say, it didn’t work. The first egg, the one I had cracked, leaked into the coffee (obviously) but the coffee had cooled too rapidly to actually do anything. So I had a half-filled cup of lukewarm, instant coffee with an egg shell sitting in it and strands of half cooked egg-white floating along the top. Yummy. I didn’t have the gumption to crack the other. I admitted defeat and thanked fuck that I had an apple in my bag.
So do I give up my preparedness? I think being a parent has taught me to always have some food in my bag, cos hungry toddlers are a catastrophe in waiting. Plus I do a lot of different jobs, at different places, and I’m never sure when or where I will get food, and as I’m bit of a health freak and I’m definitely a tight-ass when it comes to crap, unhealthy, overpriced food made solely of saturated fats, I nearly always have lunch or snacks in my bag. Who am I kidding – it’s usually in a totally separate food bag. So I’m carrying my backpack, my food/lunch bag and my uni bag? No wonder I missed the bus carrying that load. Side note: Saturated fats. Unsaturated fats? Which is the sort fat that leaves you feeling good for two seconds and then utterly shite for hours?
Anyway, it is this glorious melting pot that has turned me into one prepped-up mother fucker and, despite the failed eggs, I don’t think I am going to learn my lesson and stop.