text: I'm here today to tell you how to get happy again when you are sad. It's by making chicken soup. First step is to do something you regret and get upset about it. Then go to the fridge and get out a few carrots, an onion, celery stalks, and your chicken. Find a nice big pot and put it on the stove and drizzle in some olive oil. Take a sharp knife and start cutting vegetables. The nice thing about making chicken soup when you are sad is that you don't have to be very precise or specific with the cutting. Just hunk them up into uneven shapes, moderately bite sized, maybe not, and throw them into the pot. Wanna keep the skin on the onion because you are too upset to spend the effort? Not a problem. Knife too much work and you just want to break the veggies into pieces with your bare hands? Great stress relief, not a bad idea actually. And now the kitchen smells like cooking onions which is the first sun break to reach your shaded heart. Next part is the part that kinda sucks, but honestly getting happy isn't always a wholly enjoyable process. Neither is working with raw chicken. So you pull the chicken out of the wrapper and despite your best efforts immediately get raw chicken juices on the counter. A little even splashes on the clean apron you just put on. Into the pot goes the chicken, into the trash goes the wrapper. Now you spend the next 10 minutes cleaning the counters which is actually pretty therapeutic. A good clean kitchen counter is an inherently satisfying thing. You forgot to put water in the pot while you were cleaning but that doesn't even matter, chicken soup is the least picky thing you could make. The perfect companion to a frustrated self-loathing chef. You add a bunch of water but don't measure or really think too hard, cause you can always add more later or boil some off. It's a lesson in flexibility you could probably stand to heed right now. Bring to a boil, pop on the lid, turn the heat to medium, and go take a shower cause you need it. In the bathroom you realize your favorite podcast updated two days ago and you didn't listen yet, so you crack a cheeky 4pm shower beer and turn on the speaker and do some grooming. 25 minutes later you are warm and clean and smell nice and are laughing about something stupid from a video game fifteen years old with a 45 year old comedian and her brother. You open the bathroom door and are greeted with the smell of hot chicken soup, preliminary yet still inviting. Getting dressed and entering the living room you see your partner on the couch, clearly also in a better mood than before your shower. It's funny what a half hour away from your neuroticisms can do. The smell of chicken soup is also helping that equation balance out. You walk over and kiss them on the forehead and laugh about whatever silly thing they tell you from the article they are reading and head back into the kitchen. The soup is boiling a little too hard and has spilled on the stove, but it's not a huge deal because it isn't a sugary creamy mess and is easy to clean. The chicken isn't upset either, nor the root vegetables. Turn down to a simmer, add salt, pepper, and any herbs and spices that inspire you and are within reach and recover the pot. Remember you left your beer in the bathroom and literally only took one sip, retrieve it, and return to uncover the pot and stare at your soup for about five minutes. During this time of deep meditation and wonderful aromas you realize that you definitely were a little wrong earlier and maybe apologizing wouldn't be the end of the world. Forget to recover the pot (doesn't matter) as you head into the other room to own up to your faults and realize that your partner forgave you long before you forgave yourself. Crying optional at this point. Return to the kitchen and stare at the soup with your partner this time, chatting about whether you actually need salad to go with the inevitable garlic bread and realize that you are now happy. Cook soup for 30 minutes-3 hours more, dish up, enjoy. Rinse and repeat as needed to maintain a happy life and a healthy relationship.