two boiled eggs

"What I'd like is 2 boiled eggs with 2 slices of dry toast, one plain and one with peanut butter" - pause - "oh, well, I guess I don't need the one with peanut butter." (I wished I hadn't asked)
Hmmm.  Seems to me the last time I boiled 2 eggs was in the winter of 1963.
And this guy isn't in the mood for mistakes.  So far my list includes "not enough salt"  "too cold"  "too hot"  "too dry" and "completely tasteless" so I am nervous.
I don't even have a pot.  We only have one small pot and it's in the frig with leftover stew.
With the lightening thinking for which I have become known, I reach for my heavy duty"$250" fry pan and put some water in it.
Get well-chilled eggs out of frig, and hold them in my hands thinking "please warm up quickly".
Get the lid of my hardly-ever-used-because-it's-too-big "Le Creuset" pot and put it on the fry pan.  Fits perfectly! The gods are trying to help me.
Patient clears his throat, and asks "How's it goin'?"
"Just fine", I shout, noting that his hearing aids are parked on the table beside him.  I see a "how to do the perfect chip shot" just starting on the Golf Channel.
I decide I better not stress the gods, so I set my timer to 4 minutes exactly.  Very gently and with words of encouragement, I slowly lower each egg into the boiling water.  To my great glee, they hold firm and quietly genuflecting, I lower the lid.
I put a little butter in the coffee mug I have chosen for this delicacy, have the pepper and salt at the ready.  Put in the toast.
As soon as the buzzer sounds I have that first baby outta there.  Clumsily open it up to find a perfectly boiled egg!!!!  I am a happy cat!  Quickly empty it into the mug. Not missing a beat, like any trained athlete, I clamp the other egg, behead it and it also is perfect.  If you're making notes here as I'm sure you are - these are size medium eggs. (they are still there - way at the back in cartons that look like the ones they meant to throw out).
With triumph, I present breakfast to the sick one, and watch quietly as he eats every spoonful.
He will usually make noises of approval if he likes the taste of the first couple of bites, but all is quiet.  Still filled with the thrill of my perfectly boiled eggs, this doesn't bother me one bit.
Ignoring the cluttered counter top, I start the coffee, put my waffle in the toaster and slice my banana.
The perfect chip shot is over, the commercial is starting.
Just as I start my breakfast, he says "What are we having for lunch?"