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Yesterday was a rough day at work. I had a long meeting. Like, 0900 to 1520 long meeting. That’s 9am to 3:20pm for my gentle readers who do things in civilian time.

And then I came home, about half an hour late. My best beloved had made fresh bread and I had a slice with honey and butter. We then went out to see the chickens, since odds are good I will not see much of chickens this winter unless I go out ASAP upon arriving home. I poked around in their pen, checked food levels, and glanced into their house. The straw lining the nest boxes had been violently disarranged. Daniel disavowed all knowledge of straw rearrangement, so I checked the nest boxes.

Gentle readers, there were eggs! One of them had a dent and crack in it, so I split it open and tossed it to the chickens, who were thrilled beyond belief to have an egg to eat. Chickens, as it turns out, are slightly creepy and cannibalistic. Noodlehead, who accompanied us out to see the chickens, also disapproved. She felt that fresh eggs were better off as the food of cats, not chickens.

The other egg, though, was smooth and perfect and a warm peachy brown. Behold:
An egg, slightly longer and thinner than your average commercial egg, but smooth and glossy and perfect, rests on a bed of dark blue cloth.

This, gentle readers, is an egg free of exploitation. No human beings braved the ammonia and feather-dust filled chicken barns for this egg. No chicken spent her life in a tiny, over-crowded space, away from the sun and breeze and bugs to peck for this egg. This here is a guilt-free morsel of proteiny goodness.

It’s times like this that I feel so blessed to be able to have this life, seriously. I mean, yeah, jobs suck and if someone would like to make me independently wealthy so I could stay home all day making soap and spinning yarn and knitting and watching my chickens, that’d be great. But at the moment, I’m just deeply grateful that I have the Manor, and now the Manor has provided an egg.

Incidentally, I’m also keeping track of egg cost on a spreadsheet, amortizing the cost of our chicken set-up over the number of eggs we get. I didn’t include labor costs, some of the labor for the chicken run was a wedding present (as were the chickens!) and I’m choosing to call our own labor free. Even cheating like that, though… this is an $800 egg. Heh. Lesson learned: you don’t get backyard chickens for the cheap eggs.

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