I used to be obsessed with eggs, breakfast, breakfast for dinner, fried egg shapes, metaphors about eggs, stories involving eggs.
I was particularly fixated on anything having to do with love and eggs, the Russian proverb "Love and eggs are best when they are fresh", the the concept of putting all your eggs into one basket, being weary of counting your chickens before they are hatched, the comfort in knowing that you have to break an egg to make an omelet and of course the "I need the eggs" joke from Annie Hall:
"y'know, the, this... this guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, "Doc, uh, my brother's crazy; he thinks he's a chicken." And, uh, the doctor says, "Well, why don't you turn him in?" The guy says, "I would, but I need the eggs." Well, I guess that's pretty much now how I feel about relationships; y'know, they're totally irrational, and crazy, and absurd, and... but, uh, I guess we keep goin' through it because, uh, most of us... need the eggs."
