Sometimes I feel as if I'm experiencing my own life vicariously. Like I'm sitting up and off to the side observing myself, wondering what I'll do next. And if I'll be interesting or exciting or entertaining or if I'll get the obvious vicarious thrill from whatever it is that I do. One thing's for sure, I definitely plan to indulge in first person, non-vicarious activity involving French toast and bacon. Soon. Very soon. Just as soon as that damn bacon thaws!
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That bacon gone yet?
Yup. On the off chance that the 17yo didn't find and devour the leftover bacon, I had this brilliant idea of preparing omelets for supper. Checked the fridge. Bacon gone. He never eats the leftover brussels sprouts.
Teach him to melt cheese, put it and crumbled bacon on warmed up brussel sprouts. No more leftover sprouts.
You know, Ed, I still have that personal assistant/massage therapist/bartender/cook position open...
And I have two elderly parents that require my presence here to have a comfortable and secure life. Ah...
You're a good son. Remember to have your own life, too.
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