THE MAGIC OF BACON ...

So, every weekend my husband tries to get me to make what he calls "a country breakfast" which consists of eggs over easy, BACON and papas (potatoes). As a reminder he placed three very large potatoes on the kitchen counter ... waiting for me to wash/peel/slice and cook.  I told him if he bought me a Cuisinart I would make him potatoes every weekend. 

So, I decided to make him his "country breakfast."  Got the potatoes cooking, and I pulled the bacon out of the frig and took a whiff just to make sure the bacon was still ok.  It wasn't.  It was bad.  Had the ugly sour smell.  So I tell him ...

Me:  Danny ... the bacon is bad.

Danny:  What's the date on it?

Me:  It's bad.  Trust me.  

Pause.

Me:  I'll make it if you go get some.

Danny ... He IMMEDIATELY goes upstairs, puts on clothes, and goes to the ACME store to purchase bacon.  It is astonishing how quickly this man will move when it concerns BACON.  

SLEEP ....

For those of you who read my blog or know me, you know that I have always had a hard time falling asleep.  I took Ambien for a while but that was a disaster.  I ended up eating everything in sight and put on 30 lbs.  So I chucked that.  Then I took Advil PM.  I had to take two because one was not enough.  Now, I take Melatonin, which helps BUT I also sleep next to a human freight train ... Danny.

Every night, without fail, he falls asleep soundly by 9:30 pm.  I will watch T.V. until 11:30 to 12:30 am.  What can I say, I'm a night-owl.  And ONLY when I turn off the TV and try to fall asleep does the freight train decide to take off.  He immediately starts snoring in my ear and I want to kill him.  

DAN!  SHUT UP!

DAN!  ROLL OVER!

DANNY!  YOU'RE SNORING!

DAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Every freaking night.  The last two nights I slept in the extra bedroom.  The first night he didn't even know I was gone.  Next morning I whine ... you snored like a train last night!  He just smiles.  Why the hell should HE care that I don't get a good nights sleep when all that matters is that HE does?  I mean it's all about him anyway right?

So, last night the same thing.  Lights out, T.V. off, FREIGHT TRAIN begins.  I don't even try to sleep, I just got up, slammed the door (which he didn't even hear) and went to sleep in the extra room.

About 2:30 am boyfriend is standing at the foot of the bed like a scared little boy. 

Dan:   "Hon?  What are you doing in here?"

Me:    "SLEEPING."

Dan:  "Come to bed." 

Me:   "BEG ME."

Let's take a stroll down to Dannyland ...

SO, week nine thousand of working from home.  Today is my marital unit’s birthday.  He has taken the week off … of course, I love him to death … but not 24/7. 

So, for his birthday we have decided since we can’t go out or do anything because of the Corona Virus, we're going to make some really good steaks, a Caesar salad, baked potatoes, brussel sprouts, and garlic bread here at home. Cozy huh.  

SO … since I am handcuffed to my computer he has offered to go to the market.  

Dan:     “What do you want?” he asks.  

Me:      “Let me make you a list.”  

So, I write down all the cleaning products I desperately need and know they won't have, but I write them down anyway.  And then I remember!  

Me:      "OH!  AND BRING ME A COUPLE OF NOTEPADS!!!  

(You see, I have gone through every notepad that I brought from work and I have NOTHING to write on and when one is working from home and one only has one computer screen, BELIEVE ME, YOU NEED NOTEPADS.  SO, he says ...

Dan:     “WAIT! …. (Twilight Zone theme) nanananananananananana …. 

          you are now entering "Dannyland ..."

Dan:    “You have a tone of notepads here!  Look!"

And he goes into a drawer pulls out about eight notepads THAT HAVE ALL BEEN WRITTEN ON and then I say, but they’ve ALL BEEN WRITTEN ON and then he says “NO" and then he begins tearing out every page with writing leaving the 5 or 6 or 7 pages that are clean insisting that I have notepads and I shouldn’t waste money on buying new ones.

SO, I silently implode while listening to him tear out page after page after page of each notepad.  When he's done with that little project I then see him wandering around the living room ... 

Me:   "Don’t tell me.  You lost the list I wrote you huh?

Dan:  Yup.

MORAL OF STORY:  WHY THE FUCK DON’T YOU EVER, EVER JUST DO WHAT I ASK YOU TO?  HUH?  Why? Just humor me … BUY ME THE FUCKING NOTEPADS!  Don't go through a bunch of foochie old notepads that only leave me three pages to write on!!!  GAWD!  How much could three notepads possibly cost??!?!  GOD KILL ME RIGHT NOW.