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When E and I moved in together, my mother sent us a housewarming gift filled with little goodies for our first place together–candles, dishrags, a decorative cup or two. She also sent a white, terry cloth robe with a matching blanket that was intended for me, but E saw it first and claimed it. Almost a year later, you’d be hard pressed to find E in this house without that robe on.

I already had a white terrycloth robe with stars on it–Christmas 2004 present from mom–which I wore on cold mornings in the winter. But E considers his white robe formal dining wear. He consumes every meal before noon while wearing that robe. During Thanksgiving, he had every leftover meal in that robe. As soon as he gets home from work, he’s on the couch in that robe. “You think I can wear this to the grocery store?” he asked one day. It’s quite adorable that he grew so attached to something my mother gave him. But no, it is NOT okay to leave the house wearing the thing.

Today, after a late, late night out clubbing, E and I didn’t get out of bed until noon. The first meal I thought we’d both need to kickstart our day would be egg sandwiches (as you know, I’m not a fan of the runny yolk, so I did mine with just egg whites). I figured after we ate we’d find enough motivation to change out of our robes, clean the apartment, start shopping for Christmas decorations, cook, and go to the gym. Breakfast was served around 1 PM, and as predicted we did find enough energy after our midday meal to take them off—only to get right back in bed.

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S prefers her eggs without egg yolks at all. You know: the actual flavourful part of the egg. That’s right: just the egg white, and throw the tasty bit in the garbage. In the event that an egg yolk _is_ included, she prefers it cooked long past the point that any discernable flavour has departed, and they attain the texture of crumbly concrete. I really mean it. I was joyously surprised to bite in to this sandwich and find nice creamy egg yolk soaking in to the bread, dressing the lettuce and smothering the bacon. It appears to be true: sometimes, after a long slog, you can apparently teach a stubborn old dog new tricks…

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