2017, or something about eggs. 

I ate two boiled eggs today.

If you don’t know me, this will not sound like much of a deal. If you know me, you would have realized by now what a giant step this was for me.

For as long as I have known, I have hated boiled eggs. A hard-boiled egg stinks, the yolk is the disgusting yellow colour of a tetracycline capsule, and boiled eggs do not lend themselves to garnishing and efizi in the way, say, an omelet does. I have had arguments with girlfriends, refused to touch meals and salads, and vomited at table because of boiled eggs. 

But I ate two boiled eggs today. Because I have committed to facing the things that scare me and doing things I do not like, if it will lead to me breaking new grounds and  hitting more goals. Eating an egg is not much, but it is a metaphor for something deeper, something much more serious.

Compliments of the season, and a happy 2017 to you. Those boundaries? You will break them. Those heights? You will scale them. Those eggs? You will eat them, and in doing so discover that while you still don’t like them, you no longer feel as nauseated. Progress, no?
Here’s to 2017. Onwards and upwards.