So I forced Bryan to go recently to the Walmart of England. Literally. It’s owned by Walmart. Which is weird because I refuse to go to it in the States. But I don’t know, I guess I thought a little bit of that American excessive consumerism would be good pre-holidays. But who was I kidding. The stuff comes from China no matter what country you’re in.
So anywho. The whole thing was sort of a bust, but as we were leaving we decided to take advantage of the in-store grocery and the fact that we had rented a zipcar. I racked my brain to think of something we needed and so I quickly blurted out EGGS to Bryan as he ran down the aisle. We need eggs! I guess.
It wasn’t until days later when I pulled them out of the fridge that I noticed these eggs are a little different from the ones at my fantastic neighborhood Waitrose.
Look, I’m not saying I am a conscientious eater. In fact, I guess that’s the point. I like not knowing. And now that I know, I cannot eat these eggs. Which is me adding insult to injury of those chickens. I’m sorry, chickens. Do I just have a short memory or do we not have to purchase our food products in the U.S. with an imprinted description of the particular abuse that occurred to bring that food to our table? Please enlighten me.