Taking eggs into or out of a house after sunset is unlucky

Liam: (walks into the kitchen holding a carton of eggs) Hey, Mia, Woolies had eggs on sale—finally! Thought I’d grab some on the way home.

Mia: (gasps) Liam! What time is it?

Liam: Uh… 8:15? Why?

Mia: You can’t bring eggs into the house after sunset! It’s unlucky. Everyone knows that.

Liam: Everyone? Or just you, your aunt, and that Facebook group with the weird moon-phase horoscopes?

Mia: Hey! This comes from proper tradition. My grandma always warned us—if you take eggs inside at night, bad things happen. Chickens stop laying, relationships fall apart, and appliances suddenly break. It’s a thing.

Liam: Appliances break because they’re appliances, Mia. Remember when your toaster died? You blamed it on me boiling eggs after 7 pm, but the thing was from 2003.

Mia: Coincidence. Convenient coincidence.

Liam: Okay, let’s test your theory. I bought eggs last Thursday at 9 pm. Did anything awful happen?

Mia: Yeah. You spilled coffee on your laptop the next morning.

Liam: That wasn’t fate, Mia. That was me being half asleep and typing with a mug balanced on my knee like a clown.

Mia: But don’t you think it’s odd that things always go wrong when eggs cross the threshold after dark? My cousin Jess brought eggs home after a late shift once, and her whole fridge stopped working the next day.

Liam: Or… hear me out… her fridge was already making that weird coughing noise for three weeks?

Mia: You’re impossible. Look, traditions exist for a reason.

Liam: Sure. Some traditions are great—like pavlova at Christmas. But some come from times when people didn’t have electricity, science, or, you know… thermometers. Back then, eggs were precious. People kept them safe. Moving them at night probably meant you might drop them or attract predators. That’s it. Not because the universe was waiting to punish someone for a breakfast ingredient.

Mia: (squints) So you’re saying people made this up because it was dark?

Liam: Yes. Humans didn’t evolve night-vision goggles, Mia. Carrying fragile things after sunset used to be genuinely risky. No superstition needed.

Mia: Hmph. Still feels wrong. The vibes get weird.

Liam: You can’t measure vibes.

Mia: Yes you can! My cat refuses to walk past the pantry when eggs are inside after 7. Animals sense things.

Liam: Your cat refuses to walk past anything that doesn’t involve a can opener.

Mia: …fair.

Liam: Tell you what—if something bad happens tonight because of these eggs, I’ll personally apologise to the cosmic Egg God or whoever’s in charge.

Mia: (laughs) It’s Egg Spirits, actually.

Liam: Okay, Egg Spirits. But if nothing happens, can we agree the universe doesn’t care about the time of day I buy my groceries?

Mia: (reluctantly) Fine. But if my Wi-Fi drops even once, I’m blaming you.

Liam: Deal. And if you wake up tomorrow and everything’s normal, I get to bring eggs home whenever I want without you staging a midnight purification ritual.

Mia: No promises. I like my rituals.

Liam: I know. But maybe save the dramatic chanting for something more serious than omelettes.

Mia: (grinning) Not a chance. The spirits demand respect. And also… maybe an egg sandwich.

Liam: See? Even the spirits want a snack.

Mia: Fine, just put the eggs in the fridge. Carefully. Quietly. Don’t anger them.

Liam: (whispers) Long live the Egg Spirits.

Mia: I heard that!