My wife stood in the kitchen, preparing our usual breakfast of soft-boiled eggs and toast, clad only in the T-shirt she typically slept
in. As I entered, still groggy, she turned to me and whispered,
“You’ve got to make love to me this very moment!”
My eyes widened, torn between thinking I was still dreaming or that this was my lucky day.
Not wanting to miss the opportunity, I embraced her, and we seized the moment right there on the kitchen table. Afterward, she
casually said, “Thanks”
and resumed cooking, her T-shirt still draped around her neck. Happy yet slightly bewildered, I inquired,
“What was that all about?”
She calmly explained, “The egg timer’s broken.”