I hate being one of those people who complain about the weather, but I’m going to be one of those people who complain about the weather. Just for a sec.

It’s rained all week and I cannot seem to shake the damp stickiness that clings to my hair, skin and clothes. Why do I even BOTHER with a flat iron when, three seconds after I step outside, my hair looks like I rubbed it with a balloon?

Also: not only has the incessant rain brought to light a leaky roof, as the rain has continued, I’ve also realized that this house holds moisture like an effing sponge. And I think we all know how a wet sponge smells.

Factor in multiple sweaty trips to the gym this week (sometimes two a day), and showers thereafter, and I JUST WANT TO BE DRY ALREADY.

Hey, did you know you can psychoanalyze your tweets? TweetPsych apparently uses “linguistic analysis algorithms” to build a psychological profile of a person based on the content of their tweets. It sounds like a load, but too fun to resist. Unfortunately, my results were vague and difficult to interpret, and thusly disappointing. For instance, I scored 81.87 on a variable called “Time.” Huh?

(Also of note and equally confusing, I scored a 94 on “Oral Fixation.” What the HELL, TweetPsych?)

Last week, my co-worker saw me preparing eggs in the kitchen, and asked me if I’d ever heard of boiling eggs in a bag. I told her I had not. Usually for a quick, high-protein breakfast I’ll crack two eggs, add a little water, chop up a wedge of Laughing Cow cheese and some spinach and nuke in a bowl for just under 2 minutes.

But as soon as my feet hit the floor this morning, I was ravenous and the idea of Zipper Bag Omelettes, as they’re called, popped into my head. (The Internet tells me the idea originated as a simple way to make eggs while camping.)

As the coffee pot snorted and steamed and a pot of water bubbled on the stove, I made little piles of shredded cheese, chopped mushrooms, onion, yellow bell pepper and spinach. I added the cheese and veggies to the two eggs I’d already whipped and dumped inside a quart-sized freezer bag. I pressed the air out of the bag, squished everything around and plopped it into the pot.

Twelve minutes later, I carefully opened the slightly wilted bag and slid the lump of eggs onto my plate. It was a little juicier than expected, so I transferred it to a bowl and added a little salt and pepper.

This was definitely easy, and I love that there was no cleanup, but there was something strange about the taste and texture of boiled eggs. If I’m camping I’ll definitely remember this fun little trick, but when I’m at home and have the time, I think the traditional skillet eggs are much tastier.