Domestic Conversation

Me, sitting on the couch folding laundry. Mr. Leckie, bringing me another basket up from the laundry room.

Me: You know what I did yesterday? I poached eggs. Like, actually poached them without using any of those floating cup things, or a tray.

Mr Leckie (who is not much into cooking): What? How do you poach eggs?

Me: So, you boil water and then you just crack the egg and dump it in the water and if you’re, like, magic, it comes out as a nice round thing with a dippy yolk in the middle.

Mr. Leckie: (with a “don’t give me that crap, I didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday” look) That’s impossible.

Me: But I did it! And in theory, I could do it again. Except we’re almost out of eggs.

Mr Leckie: I’ll be right back.

Bonus “I should have thought of that while he was still here” line,: “It’s not impossible. I used to bullseye womp rats in my T-16 back home, they’re not much bigger than poached eggs.”