A number of omelettes.

Six geese a-laying. I'm gonna tell you what I like about getting six geese a-laying right at the midpoint of all this twelve days of Christmas nonsense, and I assure you it is not the fresh influx of poultry, following the really nice rings of day five, even if they are bearing eggs like nobodies business*. No, I'm just really fond of prefixing verbs with an "a-" to make it fit the meter. It's great! I mean, yes, it displays a shocking lack of of creativity on the songwriter's part, that he/she/ghe/it/He/Frank can't think of any three syllable description or action that a goose might perform, but it's still fun. Also, I'd personally suggest "six geese exploding", or even "six geese with gravy" which is both alliterative, and a serving suggestion.

Speaking of serving suggestion, as I write this, I am covered in a spicy garlic sauce. It's on my arm, leg, in my hair, and all over my bed. Also, I might just have ruined the only white shirt I even own, my beloved Mr. Period shirt. Seriously. Today I learned an important lesson about tightening the tops on bottles before flipping them around in the air. To whit: Make Sure They Are Really Damn Tight. Amen.

*Which begs the question, are none of the other birds laying at all? Of the ten birds I got before, none have been female? Or at the very least, fertile? I don't suppose that bodes especially well for my turtledove breeding stock, now does it? I mean, yeah, I was gonna turn them into a delicious pot pie sooner or later, but you'd think that amongst all these feathery bastards, I'd have an egg before day six, wouldn't you?