At least this morning, Sly does not ask if I want to shower in the master shower with his son. Dang. Is decorum just dead in this country?
He does, however, make us breakfast. Which means that once again, I am stuck waiting, on someone else’s schedule, to eat, which I know is the deal when a person is a houseguest, but man, I am hungry. That’s why I always show my houseguests where all the food is and tell them that they are to help themselves when they get hungry. I do not want hungry people chez moi.
He makes omlettes and bacon. I am not a big omelette fan but when in Rome, etc. The omelette is not that good but I am hungry and that’s the food in front of me.
However, the bacon – I just can’t. I love bacon and now Sly has ruined it for me. He totally undercooked it. Bacon fat is not supposed to be flabby, Sly!
I don’t say that out loud. I just think it. If it were crisp bacon fat, I might eat it, but to be honest, even when it’s crisp, I am not crazy about the fat. However, it works out just fine between Primo and me because he likes fat in pretty much any form. (Like – even when it is on my body, so I am not complaining at all.) I eat the lean; Primo eats the fat. We are both happy and there is no moral dilemma about wasting food.
I peel the fat off the lean and put it on my plate. I eat the lean, which is not that good but it is protein and will carry me for a few hours, and Primo happily retrieves the fat from plate. It works for us.