I have been frying a lot of bacon the past couple of days. Last night I made a BL (with no T) for Dear Sir's dinner, and this morning I made some along with some sausage for breakfast. It got me thinking to my cleaning days with Merry Maids.
I remember cleaning this lady's house. I don't even know if I would even call this lady a "lady." She was more like a man. Well, there were two of them actually. They were rather large and Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum like. They looked like twins but they very well could have been lovers for all I know. They spoke in gruff voices and wore flannel shirts with thin denim jeans with belts. Any femininity they had was stripped from them therefore making them look "Pat" like, if you know what I mean. They were also very dirty women. I mean, their house was dirty. The bedroom was so filthy I remember we were not even allowed to go in it. I distinctly remember stuff poking out the bottom of the door, it was apparently so bad.
I had the sheer pleasure of cleaning the bathroom and I almost ralphed a few times. It was very very vile. I won't get into details. I also had the wondrous job of cleaning the kitchen and this is what brings me to the bacon part. They ate a lot of bacon. Not only did the kitchen smell like vats of bacon or bacon grease, it LOOKED like bacon was cooked in there continually. What vividly stands out in my mind is this fancy little bacon contraption they had. It was a huge iron that said "Bacon Press" on it. It was grimy, dirty, and greasy. It was just sick. I tried to think of why a person would want a bacon press. It was a big mess. Clean the thing, you know? Ack.
So when I was frying some bacon I thought about the bacon press and how one would use such a thing and it made me feel a little sick. If you guys use bacon presses, sorry, I just think there is something wrong with that.