Eggs, they do a [every] body good

I'm a terrible egg cracker. I never can make that clean break. Now, I don't eat eggs often, usually a weekend thing — you know when I have a little more time to eat a leisurely breakfast, read the paper, sip on coffee — I am currently having such a morning. I was up early, I decided I was too groggy to go for a jog, so instead, I put on a pot of coffee and grabbed a couple of eggs from the fridge. When the water was making it's bubbly sound, I knew it was time. I tapped the egg a couple of times on the side of the pot. It made a little crack, but not big enough. *taptap* a few more times and *TAPPPPP* — ok, here we go, oops, some got on the stove, but most made it into the pot. WHEW! Just breathe, just breathe. Ok, egg number two, I won't be so gentle this time. *TAP* *TAP*,  I try to grab both pieces of shell as the egg topples into the water, bits of shell swimming around the pot. I realize, as I watch the yellow of the yoke seep out slowly, filling the pot, then hardening, that my egg cracking skills are a kind of metaphor for my life skills. I never blindly just 'go for it', so many of my emotional decisions are filled with agonizing analysis, much trepidation. So of course when I 'go for it', which I inevitably do, I'm bound to get some shell. Of course my yoke always breaks. I need not worry so much! I shouldn't be so scared! Confidence Jenny! That's it, next weekend or perhaps even tomorrow, I'm cracking that egg with one swift TAP and not looking back.