New Heights in Loser-ism

I make no secret out of the fact that I don't cook. I love good food, but I never had the burning interest to learn how to make it.

Now, once upon a time, I was a stay-at-home mom for three years, and the cooking mostly fell to me. And during that time, I often fed several of my husband's friends during the week as well. (See, not only did I used to cook, I used to be social. But that's another story for another day.) They loved my cooking, loved the fact that I would spontaneously make them all a lasagna at 8:30 at night when they all suddenly showed up. Nobody starved, and nobody died of ptomaine, so clearly I used to have a handle on all this shit.

Today, I decided I wanted to make a nice dinner for Mario. Nothing fancy, just something nice that I prepared. Being summer, my first thought was nice cold lobster, expense be damned. And ooooo, I'll make some of My Potato Salad, with lots of egg, bacon, Granny Smith apple, and (heaven) just the right amount of dry mustard, among other yummy goodies. My Potato Salad was, again once upon a long time ago, one of my signature dishes. But somehow I have never made it for Mario so I decided today is the day. I can still remember everything that goes in it. Piece of cake.

First step: boil some eggs.

Boil some eggs.

Shit.

I DO NOT REMEMBER THE CORRECT WAY TO BOIL BLOODY EGGS and there is no way I'm asking Mario or my mum. I don't want them to know just how giant a loser I am.

Happy Canada Day, y'all.