Too many eggs

By Renae Brumbaugh

 

Right now, I have forty-six eggs in my refrigerator. Forty-six, people. And no, I’m not planning to open a cupcake factory or a breakfast café. I have no aspirations to take over as the Easter Bunny. I don’t even like rabbits, but that’s another article. I have forty-six eggs because my hens have decided they like to lay eggs. Lots and lots of them. It’s my own fault. A few weeks ago, I thought they were slacking off. I was only getting one or two eggs a day, so I did what every good coach does. I gave them a pep talk. I told them I knew they were trying hard, but I felt they could do a little more. I mentioned how much I enjoyed their eggs, how they tasted so much better than the store-bought ones. I said they were beautiful and smart and strong. (Not sure what that last part has to do with laying eggs, but I figured flattery never hurts.)
 
 

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