Whisk: What ARE you doing?!…*gasp*.
Me: Scrambling eggs of course. What’s your prob?
Whisk: Why in the name of all that’s holy are you using her!???!…*outraged gasp*…*incredulous look*
Fork: Who you calling ‘her’ like that and what is wrong with ME!?…*indignant pout*
Me: Uh, oh.
*Cassandra discreetly sneaks out of the room leaving whisk and fork to hash out their differences*
My apologies. I had gotten into the habit of scrambling eggs with a fork like mom used to do. Notwithstanding having a perfectly good whish I was forever whisking away with that fork.
On top of THAT I was used to spreading butter on things with whatever was close by. Spoon. Aforementioned fork. Knife big enough it barely fit in the butter tub. Yikes.
When ALL I had to do was literally turn around and use the perfectly suited small spatula thingie to spread butter neatly upn my bread.
What made me get some whisk and spatula act right? I got tired, finally of not having the eggs mixed as nicely as the whisk did/does. Who knew?!
I was also mad at how I had demolished a perfectly fine grilled cheese sandwich trying to spread fighting butter with back of a too blasted large spoooon!!!!!!
I don’t know who complained louder: bread, butter, spoon, spatula or me.
Now, I can report that all are doing as they were meant to do and being used in places made for them to use. Leaving me and my tummy satisfied to no end.
Ah.
Aha!
Bet you can come up with a fantastic moral to this tale. Let’s hear it…
munching grilled cheese and eggs happily,
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe
- THE HAND FROM HEAVEN ✋🏾☁️🧻🤣
- COME SIT AT MY TABLE 🪑❤️🩹
- BELOVEDS, YOU CAN HAVE MY FLOWERS. I DON’T NEED THEM ANYMORE.
- Forgive them, Cassandra, God said to me
- Still In Love
Why Can't I Be Loud?! 