YOU try living with a vegetarian...

It's not easy, I tell ya'.

Me, I'm the type of guy who eats two things. (OK, maybe three, but we'll have to get into that later).

My plate it always piled with meat and bread...only.

Someone is always saying, “Is that all you're going to eat?” “Don't you want some vegetables?”

The mention of vegetables always makes me recoil in horror.

I somehow managed to escape eating them as a child, and my record is still unblemished.

So spending everyday with a non-meat eater is a challenge.

First, there's always the “Where are we gonna eat?” dilemma.

For you see, vegetarians can't eat just anywhere.

Many restaurants feature meat, or a reasonable facsimile thereof.

And you have to watch some “vegetarian-friendly” menu items because they are prepared on the same grill, or in the same area, as the dreaded meat.

Imagine my surprise when the missus actually brought home a pack of (Gasp!) bacon not long ago.

“Did you mean to buy this?” I asked.

“Yes, I did,” said Renee'. “I thought you might like it.”

“Well!” I said, “there's hope for you, yet!”

It was really good bacon too-with a heavy, peppery crust.

Only problem is, it didn't last long.

I was feeling a little brave, so I asked if she would get some more.

With a sigh, she said she would.

The next time she went to the grocery, I eagerly helped her unload the bags and put everything away.

I was thinking about how I would prepare one of my favorite treats-a “BLT”-minus the lettuce and tomato, and any sauces.

We emptied all the grocery bags, and I noticed I didn't see any bacon.

“Did you put the bacon up already?” I asked?

“No,” my wife said, “I thought you did.”

“You didn't get any, did you?” I said.

“Yes, yes I did!” my wife replied. “I know I did!”

There wasn't any bacon to be found.

We looked from the carport to the back door, and in, on, over, under and around everything in between.

“I just think you didn't get it because you hate meat,” I said.

Which started “Fight #1 of the Week.”

A couple of days later, I made a late-nite run to the grocery.

With a smirk of satisfaction, I happily tossed a package of bacon into the cart.

I noticed Renee' didn't say anything about the bacon as we put the groceries away.

I thought it was “poetic justice” that she had to put the bacon away-knowing she said she would get bacon, then didn't, and I managed to get a brand, new package of the satisfying strips in the house..

(Yeah, I'm a meanie.)

The next morning, I decided there would be nothing better than bacon and biscuits.

Mmm-mmm!

I got out a can of biscuits, slammed them against the edge of the counter to open them (I LOVE that part!), then went to the refrigerator to get the bacon.

I dug around for what seemed like hours trying to find the bacon.

Not in the fridge, not in the crisper, not in the freezer...heck, I couldn't find it anywhere.

Then I thought...”OH, NO SHE DIDN'T!”

I called Renee' at work, and before she could finish saying “He...”

“WHAT DID YOU DO WITH THE BACON?!' I screamed. “You threw it away, didn't you?”

“Hey!” she retorted. “I didn't SEE any bacon. Did you buy some last night?”

“Of course I did!” I replied. “You hid it...or threw it away.”

“But I never saw any bacon!” she said.

“Are you serious?” I asked?

“Yes,” she said, “but I might as well tell you...remember when we couldn't find the bacon I got a few days ago?”

“Yeah,” I said. “How could I forget, that you forgot to get bacon?”

“Whatever!' she spat. “Well, I DID get bacon, and a found it later...in the back of the van. I think that's what that odd smell was in there.”

“Oh...” I said. “Well, did you keep it?”

“NO!” she screamed. “It had been in the back of the van, in the heat, for like, two days!”

“But I really like bacon!” I cried.

“So, where's the bacon you said YOU bought?” she inquired.

“I'll find it,” I said, ending the conversation abruptly.

Which lead to “FIGHT #7 of the week.” (And we weren't even to Wednesday yet.)

I searched all morning for the bacon-looking in, on, over, under and around everything I could think of.

And then...the thought...you know, the one you get when you're looking for something, and you realize where it may be, and it makes you snap your fingers and say, “AH-HA!”

When I went to the grocery, I had taken my car.

So...

I went to the car, hastily throwing everything in it (empty bottles, dirty gym clothes, guitars, cats, small children, etc.) into the driveway.

No bacon.

I dug under the seats, sniffing...

Pulled back the headliner, sniffing...

Opened the hood...sniffing.

No bacon.

When my wife got home that evening, she noticed the mess in the driveway.

“You must have been looking for something in the car,” she said.

“Yeah,” I grumbled.

“Well, did you find what your were looking for,” she asked.“NO!” I spat.

“Gosh...what's wrong with you?” she squealed.

“Honey...I've realized something,” I told my wife.

“I'm just not bringing home the bacon.”