Why is it that brown eggs seem so much healthier than white? There is something about cracking brown eggs in my country kitchen with the sun pouring in the breakfast nook.
I know they aren’t healthier just because they are brown, but I somehow am not convinced as I’m cooking scrambled eggs on the stove, putting wheat toast in the toaster, and pouring large glasses of orange juice. It’s my favorite breakfast.
Is it something like reading an old book? The feel of the old binding on Ben-Hur is so different than the glossy cover of a new edition. When I finish an old book, I feel a different sort of accomplishment than reading the same words in a paperback. Why is that?
Sometimes I do judge a book, or an egg, by its cover.
