I’ve used a lot of kitchen gadgets in my time–some amazing, some great conversation pieces, some entirely too single-use to justify the space they took up, and some terrible. But never have I seen one this hysterical. It’s a stoneware egg separator. I happen to think egg separators are pretty silly in the first place; as long as you crack your egg on a flat surface instead of the edge of something (the latter is more likely to drive a shard of shell into the yolk) separating an egg is not all that difficult. Even I’d be tempted, however, by an egg separator that drained off the egg white in the way this one does:

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Apparently my sub-quest to locate an exterminator has presented a new challenge in which the true quest has shown itself to be getting the exterminator to the house. My least favorite type of quest, presumably: an escort quest.

You see, a road crew ripped up our street this morning.
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I stumbled groggily out of bed, threw on some sort of clothing, and wended my way to the kitchen to get breakfast started while my husband took his shower. The cats curled around my ankles meowing for breakfast, and as I bent over to pet them I saw it:

The ants had taken over.
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