Makin bacon

Life expectancy would grow by leaps and bounds if green vegetables smelled as good as bacon. ~Doug Larson

It's 9:01, and all is well. Or, more accurately, as well as it can be for a Monday morning. I'm exhausted, but this isn't abnormal. I've never, ever been a morning person, and should have taken this into consideration prior to accepting a job where I have to report to work at 7:30 a.m. Oh, and there's a nice 40 minute commute on top of that. Even as a child, I'd sleep in until noon or so--so late, that my parents would periodically check in to make sure I was still breathing. This being said, a 6 a.m. wake-up call is a rough one (at best). Also one I ignore 4/5 mornings. I'd be lost without my beloved snooze bar...or at least 3 hours late on a daily basis (and probably unemployed).

There's something extra-special about Monday mornings--I consistently feel a little nauseous. My current theory is that I've had the luxury of sleeping in during the weekend, my body mistakenly slips back into its normal sleeping pattern and is then brutally awakened at 6. Whether it's lack of sleep, dreading work, a severe "case of the Mondays" or a low blood sugar level (or another scientific/logical reason), I feel like I might throw up for the first few hours of wakefulness, and this problem is compounded by the fact that Sean nukes bacon EVERY SINGLE MORNING. Now don't get me wrong: Bacon is wonderful. I've always loved strips of bacon, BLTs, club sandwiches, bacon in omelettes, bacon-wrapped scallops...you get the picture. The hissing and sizzling of it used to jog fond memories of family vacations and mornings of fried bacon, eggs and toast.

Unfortunately, the past 9 months of employment have ruined it. Pair an upset stomach up with this distinctive smell for 3/4 of a year, and you too, can learn to hate it.

Today, I thought I was going to escape the stench of microwaved pig fat. I beat Sean in, settled into my morning routine and braced myself for the inevitable. 8 a.m. came and passed...8:30...9...I was in the clear! There would be no microwaved meat! I made the obligatory coffee run to Stop and Shop (I go to S&S as much as possible to pass the time), opened the office door and WHAM! was slammed by bacon-rific smell of the office.

Ugh.

It's a good thing bacon's effects can't be absorbed through inhalation. I'd be 400 pounds by now (which, according to researchers, is the average weight gain of unhappy wives after 25 years of marrriage).