Burnt Grilled Cheese

I’m marrying what some would call- a guys guy. You know the type: sports-watching, beer-drinking, can figure out how to fix just about anything kind of guy. He’s a big ole thumbs up in my book.

D. got pretty sick this week. Says he’s suffering from Ebola. I tell him no, just the flu.
Back off- I’m the hypochondriac in this relationship!

He doesn’t ask for much, so when he called and said I don’t feel so good, need some tomato soup and a grilled cheese. I said.
No problem baby, anything for you.
I ran to the store and opted for the tried and true- Campbell’s soup, American cheese. Perfection.

By the end of the night D. may have been rethinking marriage to yours truly. See. I’m spoiled. I don’t cook. Have my very own private live-in chef. Seriously! It goes something like this:
I would like
2 boiled eggs in the morning- don’t forget the toast!
Lunch. Tuna salad extra pickle
Dinner? Oh, don’t worry I’ll get something while I’m out.

I failed. Miserably. Burnt the grilled cheese. TWICE! After getting explicit instructions from the other room on how to make it.

Everything ok in there?
Everything’s great sweetie!
Are you sure, it kind of smells like something's burning!
No. It’s all good!
Are you sure?
Yep!

Repeat….

Later-
Did you stir this soup?
Of course- what’s wrong?
Well, it’s kind of lumpy.
Sorry. Want me to stir it some more?
Silence
What?
Nothing…
What?!
Well. Did you use the microwave?
…yezzz. I followed the directions: 1 can of soup. 1 can of water. Stir.
Silence
What?!
You’re supposed to use milk and stir it in on the stovetop

Failure.