Bringing home the bacon

When the bacon is brought home, it is I who brings it. I mean that in the most literal sense. I do the grocery shopping and therefore I am the one who brings home the bacon.

Except that over the past 6 months I've been working on getting healthy and fit and losing weight and so the inside of my fridge has not seen bacon for a very long time. This also means that Steve has not had access to bacon for a very long time.

Steve really likes bacon. He has been asking lately for me to make some of my famous and most requested appetizers - bacon wrapped salmon chunks.

And then Saturday I was at the grocery store and guess what was on sale? Right. Bacon. So I spent a good fifteen minutes searching through the bacon, (as I always do) trying to find the leanest pound of bacon possible. I brought the bacon home and used all of six strips to make the salmon appies. Steve was so excited about it he may have peed a little.

So the next morning as I'm trying to get ready for the gym, Steve is asking about the rest of the bacon, which is in the fridge. What are we going to do with it?? Can we eat it for lunch?? Can we have it for dinner???

The difference between Steve and I? I can have a peice of bacon and then walk away. Steve needs to have the bacon until the bacon is gone, and then he wants more bacon. He is calling the butcher in the middle of the night looking for more bacon. He is at the pawn shop late at night trying to sell his wedding ring, so he will have more money for bacon.

I managed to deflect the bacon obsessing for the day. And I meant to put it in smaller packages and put it in the deep freeze for another time. Out of sight, out of mind. But I forgot.

The next day I went to work and Steve stayed home on his day off. Unsupervised.

Guess what he ate? Bacon and french fries. And then guess what he wanted me to make for dinner? Bacon. Bacon anything. I refused.

Fast forward to 5am the next morning. Mere seconds after the alarm went off, Steve leaped out of bed and headed downstairs. He never does that. I just figured that maybe he'd found a good porn site on the internet and wanted to check it out before I caught him. So I hit snooze a few times and then hopped in the shower.

And what did I smell the minute I stepped out of the shower??


I came downstairs to find him in front of the stove with spatula in hand and a big grin on his face - bacon fat spattering all over the stove. He just couldn't wait to get into the kitchen and cook up the last of his precious bacon. I'm surprised that he could even slept through the night with that bacon in the fridge.

I was afraid that when I got to the office they'd smell the bacon on me and... they'd know.

So now the bacon is gone. Gone for a long, long time. Clearly he has a "problem" and so it's not fair that I bring it into the house. He simply cannot control himself, and I cannot stand to see my husband go through such a crazed addiction again anytime soon. It breaks my heart.

I'm looking into putting him in a program.