The Price of Eggs (Sheila’s Saga, Pt. 1)

To skip to Part Two (continuation from the print edition) click HERE

     

     Sheila stood in line with the rest of the parents, awaiting the bell that would signal the start of the long Easter weekend.  While a few of the younger moms seemed excited to pick up their kids, the older moms were not.  These wise ones knew that hippity hop of the Easter Bunny appeared calm when compared to the jumping gyrations of elementary school kids “hopped-up” on plastic eggs filled with candy. 

     But Sheila had a plan – a plan filled with a series of excursions strategically designed to exhaust her energized bunnies.  

Stop No. 1:  The Senator’s Egg-stravaganza.  

     While some constituents complained that their Senator was never at home, Sheila relished his absence at holiday time.  That’s when the Senator would distract from his MIA status by paying a local company to set up giant oh-so-commercial holiday balloons: ghoulish ghosts in October, sumptuous Santas in December, and enormous Easter Eggs in the Spring.  

     And with the Senator away, Sheila’s children could play.  As they scurried out of the car, they squealed with glee, as they ran, serpentine, through the over-sized ovals.  Sheila put her head on the steering wheel, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath to prepare for the journey ahead. 

     But wait – what’s that buzzing noise?  Damn, it was that robotic, roomba mower.  Shelia hated that menacing machine, but her kids normally welcomed their mechanized friend.  However, today the little monster was about to turn a gigantic egg into scrambled roadkill.  

     Now it was Sheila who was shrieking and running, as she tried to divert the mower off course.  But she was too late.  The robot had already knocked down and mounted the egg, which then exploded, sending pieces of polyester eggshells all over her children.  While the kids screamed hysterically, Sheila wrestled the still-growling beast away from his prey and hit the kill switch.  Unable to console her children, Sheila did what any desperate mother would do: she promised them ice cream. 

Stop No. 2.  They Scream, I scream.   

     The ice cream did temporarily stop the kids’ screaming, but soon the sugar started to kick back in.  So, Sheila lured her kids to their next destination with dreams of their beloved Easter tradition: the selection of eggs and dyes for coloring the Easter Bunny’s favorite treat.   The children bounced out of their chairs and headed for the store’s Easter display.  While her youngest child was still screaming for ice cream, Sheila screamed even louder when she saw the price of eggs: “What the fuck, are these eggs filled with gold?”   Nearby, other parents nodded knowingly. 

Then Sheila’s oldest child reached for a dozen, causing Sheila to shout, “Don’t touch them!”  The child, understandably, responded with tears.  Sheila, thankfully, hatched a new plan.   “Let’s go to Dollar Store to buy some colorful eggs and shiny stickers!”  The kids cheered and ran for the next store on their list. 

Stop No. 3. The Not-So Dollar Store.  

     As Sheila well knew, the items at the Dollar Store were no longer a dollar.  What started as a 25-cent Covid commission was now a permanent fixture.  To some, 25-cents may not seem like a lot, but with three kids, each grabbing packages of eggs and stickers, the register receipt now exceeded the price of a dozen of real eggs.   Oh well, at least the kids were happy, and Sheila could skip the boiling and coloring of eggs. Despite the claims to the contrary, those “washable” dyes still dotted her rug.   Of course, now her walls would probably be stuck with stickers, but they should be easier to get off. 

     But as she drove home, Sheila’s temporary relief gave way to a growing anger. Why were the eggs so damn expensive? And why was the Dollar Store still more than a Dollar? Unlike her husband, Joe, Sheila had never been very political.  But last fall, after a lot of  nagging from Joe, Sheila voted for Joe’s chosen candidate for Senator.  Joe loved the Senator’s “business” experience, which the Senator bragged would help him bring inflation “under control.”  But if that was true, why were prices even higher than before? 

     Just then, a train whistle jolted Sheila back from her political stupor. She hit the brakes and waited for the train to pass.  Then she crossed the tracks and headed for home. 

Part 2

Stop No. 4.  Back to the Coop. 

Sheila loved her home, although it was admittedly small.  And she loved her close-knit neighborhood, even if it was on the “wrong side of the tracks.”   But as she pulled into the driveway, she couldn’t help but notice that her house was smaller than the size of the Senator’s six-car garage.  In fact, next to the Senator’s mansion, her house looked more like a chicken coop. 

But her chicks didn’t care, as they flew out of the car and into the house.  Joe was waiting for his flock with open wings.  He smiled at Sheila and pointed to the pot full of water on the stove, proudly announcing that he was ready to boil some eggs.  

                   Once again, the kids’ eyes started to well.  Sheila explained to Joe that this year, they would be doing colorful plastic eggs and shiny stickers instead.  Joe was confused, and the kids were no longer amused, as the bribe was losing its impact.  

So, Sheila announced another diversion: They would have an Easter Egg Hunt the very next day!  The kids cheered. 

But Joe sneered, murmuring, “Can we really afford all this junk?”

Sheila murmured back, “Do you have a better idea?”  She then told the kids to go watch TV, as “Daddy and I need to talk to the Easter Bunny.”  The kids left the room, but were still in earshot, so the parental planning continued in murmurs. 

                 “What’s with the plastic eggs?”

                  “We can’t afford real eggs.” 

                 “Can we afford all these stickers?” 

                   “They’re cheaper than the permanent dye on our rug.” 

                   “What about the candy?” 

                 Exasperated, Sheila shot back, “I thought your Senator was supposed to bring down these prices.” 

                 Startled, Joe stopped.  Then he adopted a professorial tone.  “Now Sheila, he’s our Senator.  The inflation situation is very complicated. We’re still dealing with the economic crisis left by the last President.  These things take time. You just need to be more patient…”  

Exhausted, Sheila nodded, a bit like a bobble head, and then finally relented. 

“I understand. It’s been a long day.”   

“Maybe I just need a drive to clear my head. Why don’t I head back to the store and see if I can’t find some slightly cracked eggs and some very stale candy?”   

Joe laughed and gave his wife a peck on the cheek.  He said he’d handle the kids while she was gone.

Stop No. 5. Egg-ceptance.   

Sheila drove back to the not-so-dollar store.  As she scrounged through the shelves looking for damaged eggs and expired candy, she kept reminding herself that she “really did love Joe.” And “Joe did follow politics very closely.”  “Inflation is very complicated.” And maybe she did “need to be patient.” 

Discounted goods in hand, Sheila got back in the car, feeling a sense of relief. As she road home, she took a slight detour to enjoy the Senator’s beautiful decorations, without the accompaniment of her kids as backup screamers.   The deflated egg had now been replaced by a very adorable bunny.  She stopped the car to share a picture of the eggs and the bunny with Joe and the kids. 

But as Sheila sat in her car admiring the decorations, something no longer felt right.  She kept glancing, back and forth, from the Senator’s large, beautiful eggs, to her plastic bag of puny, damaged eggs.  Five minutes passed, and then she got out of the car with her bag full of eggs. 

Sheila walked over to one of the Senator’s eggs and looked up. It really was enormous.  

She looked down at her eggs. They really were puny. 

Then Sheila reached into the bag and dropped one of her eggs on the ground. Slowly, she stepped on the egg, which cracked under her weight.  She dropped a second egg, stepped on it, and was again rewarded with a satisfying crack. Soon, she had dumped out the entire bag of eggs, and one addictive crack led to another.  Sheila was no longer walking on eggshells. She was stomping.   

Having finished her vigorous dance, Sheila knew she had one last move to make. She walked over to the robot mower and flipped on its switch. She walked back to her car, no longer intimidated by the menacing beast.  As she sat in the driver’s seat, she watched as the tiny monster started to consume the splintered, plastic eggshells.  Then the mower started to choke, then smoke, and finally broke. 

Sheila drove, slowly away, smiling, and knowing, that now, 

Egg-lections really do have consequences.

Click Here to read Parts 3 and 4