So I was being GOOD and RESPONSIBLE and blogging over at Scrapropos like I should've been doing, and I sorta forgot about the eggs that were boiling on the stove. Until I heard a pop. Even then, I thought it was Ian busting up the house with his toy sword. Until I heard another pop, bigger than the first, and I thought, "SWEET HOLY MOSES on BUTTERED TOAST, those are my EGGS!!", and running to the kitchen, found an expoding, sizzling pan of eggs on the stove, which I tossed into the sink, only to have one egg completely blow apart upon hitting the cold steel. Hoo Boy. My house smells like exploding eggs now. And I have no boiled eggs to nosh on this afternoon.