Something happened to me (not just to me, but to everyone around me, as well) that's probably never happened to anyone before. Not even close. Do you ever have those moments where you realize that? And do you think it's sad that those moments come so few and far between, even though it probably happens all the time; nobody's probably written this exact sentence before, have they? There's a moment right there. But I don't feel anything. I felt it yesterday, though:

We were hiding Easter eggs. I was looking for a hiding place that was right in plain sight, but where nobody would think to look. Preferably somewhere eye level or transparent. I chose the hole in one of the speakers. Not shoved all the way in there or anything, but with the green-dyed end poking out, so all it would take to dislodge it would be a slight tip forward.

It took awhile to find, but when Nick found it, I was looking the other way. I didn't see him start to poke his fingers in, pushing the egg the wrong way; through the tube and down into the interior of the speaker, where it alternately lodged, rattled, cracked and rolled while he looked on and panicked.

So I spent the time after Easter brunch watching/helping with speaker disconnecting, shaking, poking, and egg pinching, skewering, and rolling. The egg was in a terrible position, since it would only come out lengthwise. We stuck radio antenna in the hole. We tried to trap it with rolled up newspapers. We played the opposite of that game where you roll the box around to try and not get a little silver ball to fall through any number of holes. Finally, Nick pierced the egg with a chopstick and dragged it at least halfway out, where we had to cradle the egg's end with our fingers like pincers as it bulged out the hole, looking exactly like a baby being born.

Then we had to vacuum the pieces of shell out. Happy Easter, Patrick's family! You feed me delicious ham and potato salad and I put egg in your speakers!