Saturdays are sacred in the Lasselle household. Rachel treasures her Saturday morning runs, and I treasure the college football/basketball that occurs on the final day of the week. Our routine usually goes something like this: we wake up around 8 or so, lay in bed for about an hour, then Rachel goes on a 3 mile jog. I wait about 15 minutes after she leaves, then walk down the road until I run into her. Then we walk another 3 miles. My lower body just doesn't allow me to keep up with her for the full distance. Anyways, today there was an intoxicating aroma all over the city - bacon. I don't know where it was coming from, but the smell of freshly cooked bacon is one of those scents that consumes you entirely. It stirs your most primal instincts: to eat meat. I realized that since I've been with Rachel, I probably have bacon on average once every year. This just wouldn't do. We made a slight detour on the way home to pick up some bacon for breakfast.
Today I cook bacon! Today I eat bacon! So what if it's turkey bacon, it's bacon damnit, and I'm excited!
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