If there’s a good “yolk” pun, I haven’t heard it.

I’ve decided, for the time being, to eat more healthy food and less awful food. I once mentioned here that I gave up french fries for Lent, which I successfully accomplished. And I understand another layer of that symbolic sacrifice: that now, even if I crave the fries, I know how good it feels not to eat them often, if ever.

I have the wisdom, discipline, and humility of a Trappist monk. Great. Anyway–

I was cooking myself a little egg sandwich late yesterday afternoon. For this meal, I generally put two eggs on an English muffin (instead of those magically delicious deli bagels that have twice as many unnecessary calories). Furthermore, with a new mindset, I cook two egg whites, but only use one of their yolks, which I leave in its cracked shell, to cut down on the cholesterol.

So yesterday, I cracked the first of two eggs with the spatula, fit my thumbs in and released the insides into the pan — to find that this particular egg had two yolks.

Son of a bitch.