If you found this post hoping for the latest dish on actor, dancer Kevin Bacon, then I should warn you: this post has nothing to do with him.
This post, on the other hand, has everything to do with the preposterous occurrences in my kitchen this very night. Allow me to divulge.
While I was putting my handyman skills to good use converting our coat closet into a pantry, my wife declared that she was preparing bacon for our baked potato bar. My soul began to weep for joy, and I nearly broke into song. My elation was stayed, however, with the memory of a previous attempt at bacon, which prompted my asking, "Is it real bacon?"
Her response was startling. "Yeah," she said casually. The song commenced.
The song, sadly, was never meant to last.
It was several minutes later when she revealed the truth about the bacon.
"Well, it's turkey bacon," she confessed.
I made clear my disappointment. Her response was chilling. "I think you'll be really disappointed tonight," she said coolly.
I already regret this post.
And yes, I've said too much.
Sent from my iPhone
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