I was juggling earlier today. I had three creamy-white eggs in the air. Luckily I was in the hen house—plenty eggs should I falter. A ghost white feather tickled my nose and I nearly sneezed. Phew!
Looking outside I could see a fox blanching in the sun. Bad fox, I thought.
I had over a hundred eggs in the air—and that, let me tell you, takes talent. Some of the eggs were brown, but most were white. Three hundred eggs now folks—a Ferris wheel of uncracked spheres.
It’s Tuesday, and Tuesday is my day for telling white lies.