I got tired of wrestling with the cheap can opener. So I went out and bought a new can opener that works like magic. I pretty much just wave my hand over the top of the soup can and the lid pops right open.
On good days, you can invert the can and the soup will fall out in one gelatinous lump. Shlunk. Otherwise you’re scraping soup out of the can with the end of a spoon.
The soup people mean business when they say you’re supposed to add the milk and water “slowly, while stirring constantly.” I used to dump it all in and fire up the heat. I’d wind up with Lumps of Chicken Soup instead of Cream of Chicken Soup. I have learned to defer to the authority of the soup-instruction-writing people.
It’s important to take your time and get it right. It’s three in the afternoon and you haven’t eaten anything yet. You could be on your way to a pointless, wasted day. Cook a can of soup and you’ll have a good chance to turn the day around.
When my soup is ready, I will eat it straight from the pot, while standing up in the kitchen. This is a bachelor’s prerogative.
Slowly, I stir constantly and allow my mind to relax. I spot half a package of soda crackers on the kitchen shelf. Those crackers have been chosen to die a soggy, soupy death.
Slowly, I stir constantly as I wake up to the possibilities of the day.
Slowly, I raise the spoon to my lips. I blow on the soup. A yellow ripple shakes across the spoonful. I part my lips and hazard a taste.
Sluuuurp AGGGGH FUCK
Forgot to turn on the burner.