Chicken Soup for the Soulless

I went to the gym this evening only to find as I approached the building that I'd left my key card at home. Thanks to the extra travel time this added to the evening, I was a tad too slow finishing up my workout and had to quit early due to shaking and weakness.

I got off the machine before I could faint, ate some rice crackers I keep in my ManlyBag(tm), and was able to stand up straight and/or drive home safely after about five minutes of trashy magazine flipping. Got home and, as usually happens when I crash, I attacked the first thing my brain interpreted as food. This led to me eating a piece of bread with peanut butter and three squares of Ghirardelli chocolate, folded over into a sandwich. Toasted.

So then I thought to myself, I should make something good to eat because this has been a travesty of a meal. But what to make? Soup, replied my brain with not even a hint of concern about how long such a task might take. We'll eat soup.

So I chopped up the carrots and peeled onions, potatoes, celery, cabbage, zucchini, broccoli, cauliflower and chicken breasts. Because a good meal is nothing if not quick and easy to prepare, right?

Browned the onions, added a family-size can of cream of chicken soup as the base, added water and chicken bouillon, simmered the vegetables in order of toughness, lightly braised the chicken under a blanket of marjoram, garlic, peppers, savory, and various other herbs, diced in firm tofu, threw in a cup or so of heavy cream I found in the fridge that was getting near its expiration date, and let the entire mess sit just under a boil for however the fuck long that took.

Meanwhile, I'm over here boiling up two cups of Minnesota blend wild rice in chicken broth to throw in with the finished soup and add texture 'n shit. While the various ingredients are simmering, I clean the workspace and unload/reload the dishwasher so the kitchen will be nice and clean.

When Wolves of the Calla broke the fourth wall so hard the credibility of the last 3 books in the series shattered right along with it came to an end, I switched over to another playlist and chortled along with Al Franken's Oh, the Things I Know for the rest of the cooking session.

Final result: FOUR HOURS LATER I AM ENJOYING A DELIGHTFULLY WARM BOWL OF HOMEMADE CREAM OF CHICKEN SOUP.

...

Hey, it's overcomplicated and I'm still itchy from workout sweat that should have been scoured off ages ago, but at least I don't have to do this again for at least a week.