Murder and Two Hard-Boiled Eggs

I do so love a good murder now and then

When I read a story, I don’t just read it, I become part of it. So much so that everything around me disappears.

Proof of that was when I was about ten or eleven years old and my parents hired a contractor to do renovation to the house. A wall was to be smashed turning the lounge and the dining room into one big living room. There was noise, and dust and bricks were falling around my ears but I didn’t notice any of it.

While some might think it great that I can emerge myself to such an extent into a story, I tend to disagree. Reading has gotten me into more than one pickle. Take today for instance.

I started a new book, ‘Trust your eyes’ by Linwood Barclay. At some point, one of the characters was thinking about making lunch. Lunch, I thought, I should make lunch, I did feel a little hungry. I went to the kitchen, peered into the fridge, and found a can of tuna. Great I would make myself a tuna salad. I grabbed two eggs, put them in a pot of water, and put the pot on the stove. While I waited for the water to boil I went back to my book.

Sometime later, there was another reference to eating in the book and I thought I should make myself something to eat. Eating … wait a minute, didn’t I start something? In a flash, I remembered the two eggs I had on the stove. How long had they been there? I had put them on a little after 12:15 p.m. Oh my goodness, it was now 12:48. While I like hard-boiled eggs, eggs that have been boiling for 33 minutes are a little over the top.

I flew out of my chair and checked the pot. All the water had evaporated and the two eggs were just lying there miserably. There was nothing for it but to throw the eggs away and start over. Thanks, Linwood Barclay, this is all your fault.

Linwood Barclay isn’t the only one who got me into trouble. A while back I was reading one of James Patterson’s novels while I had hamburgers in the oven. A killer was on the loose, his intended victim had no idea of his plans for her, would she get suspicious or would he get her? It was only when Patterson made mention of a restaurant that I remembered my hamburgers. Safe to say, by the time I checked the oven the burgers weren’t just well done, they were cremated.

Then there was the time that I read ‘The silent patient’ by Alex Michaelides. I was sitting on a bench by the side of the road waiting for the bus. I had just missed a bus so I knew it would be some time before another one came along. It didn’t bother me. It was a nice sunny day, I wasn’t in a hurry, and I had this book to keep me entertained. It was only when I heard a rumble that I looked up and to my consternation saw the back of the bus I had been waiting for. How was this possible. The bus had stopped, people had been getting on and off and pulled away again. Had could I have missed this?

It got worse. For the next bus, I paid attention, got on, and soon was on my way to St. George’s subway station. I got on the train, put on my headphones, got out my book, and continued reading about Alicia’s plight. The train rambled on, make his stops, and continued his way through the tunnels. I paid little or no attention. My stop was Kennedy, the last stop on the line.

By the time the subway train neared its final stop, there were little or no people left on the train. When the train slowed down, I took off my headphones, put away my book, and made my way to the doors.

When the doors opened I immediately noticed that something was wrong. There was too much light and there was too much color. This wasn’t Kennedy station, this was Kipling station. Good grief, I’d taken the wrong train. I’d gone west instead of east.

There have been other instances where reading got me into trouble. Too many to mention actually. But since I started this story with Linwood Barclay, I’ll finish with him. One day, I was reading ‘Elevator Pitch’ at my desk during lunchtime. Lunchtime being 1:00 p.m. to 2:00 p.m. but that day I’d lost track of time.

Unnoticed my boss was standing in front of my desk and discreetly coughed ‘hm hm,’ followed this conversation.

‘Good book?’ ‘Excellent.’ ‘Well, if you can tear yourself away for a moment can you transcribe this tape?’ ‘Sure, right after lunch.’ ‘What time is lunch?’ ‘One to two.’ ‘For your information, it’s now a quarter to three.’ I was stunned. I had been reading for nearly two hours! ‘Must be one hell of a book,’ my boss said.

The following day he walked in with his own copy of Elevator Pitch and I didn’t hear a peep out of him.