How mousey got her groove back, or The ode to an omelette

I always go into it thinking that it's going to be a quick, painless, rather joyful burst of fulfillment. It's never like that though. Never.

There's always the drama of crying over spilled milk, the question of going at it traditionally or maybe trying something a little bit more exciting. And then there's the issue about timing. I'm one of those pesky individuals who have to time everything just so. It has to be right, or I just.. leave.

I don't understand why it can't ever be simple. But then again, once you acquire a taste for it..

It's just too hard to let well enough alone.

*

Yes, I am literally talking about an omelette. No, it doesn't refer to anything else.
And yes. I am that fussy about omelettes.
Yes, REALLY.

The title may have been inspired by a fanfic somewhere.