In our house, when something needs to be recycled, it is placed on the end of the counter to await my manly hands, which take it out to the garage, place it upon the floor, squash it with my feet, then place it in the appropriately colored recycling container.
Yesterday I took hold of a milk carton and two egg cartons. I took them to the garage. I squished the milk carton and placed it in the plastic recycling. I stacked the egg cartons on top of one another, leapt into the air and landed on the cardboard, waiting for the familiar fffffp sound of compressed cardboard, but being greeted instead with a definite CRACK. The crack of an... eggshell?
Indeed, it was the crack of an eggshell. One lone egg had remained in the discarded carton. I cleaned up and told Krista about it. She apologized, having forgotten to warn me about this. I told her, "I guess the yolk's on me."