A past life told me

Sometimes a trip to the grocery store is a pain in the ass, other times it's a destination.  I wouldn't go overboard seeking to make a potato soup with pepper jack cheese unless you're willing to commit to the cup of cream and half stick of butter that goes into it.  Dicing 4 cups of potatoes and boiling for about 15 minutes is just about as easy as a relationship to potatoes gets.  It's a two-way street, admitting everything.

Both a green and red pepper are delighted to meet their match with 2/3 of a diced onion, a peeled and diced carrot, 2 minced cloves of garlic, becoming your latest and greatest friends.  Forgetting to laugh at your jokes is an ailment you'll find intriguing, they know you less for the comedienne you strive to be, more for the injured abandonee you prefer not to see.

Sautéing on medium until soft is a pretty intuitive move, most people can't pinpoint that exact moment when 2-1/2 cups of chicken broth are in order as opposed to fakey-fakey crumbled bacon that knows what it's in for and wants to avoid it.  Making that roux with only 1/4 cup of flour is kind of like letting down your guard for once, much like salt, pepper and a teaspoon of thyme reveal character.  Forgetting to add a cup of pepper jack is akin to rejecting the life God gave you, and the people destined to be in it.

Think somberly about it, for a minute you can spare, then distract yourself until potato soup goes away or gets used to it.  Exactly why your friends get what's expected, while nieces and nephews grow up spared, protected, and shielded.