Cliff is too sick to go to work today; he got up around ten o'clock and sat in his chair until the Tylenol started wearing off; now he's back in bed. He asked for more Tylenol, but I reminded him this timed-release version should only be taken every eight hours.
While the Tylenol was still working for him, lunchtime was approaching, and all Cliff had for breakfast was a half-cup of tomato soup with some crackers. "Just let me know if you want some lunch," I said. "I can reheat the tomato soup or fix you something else; personally, I'm going to take this opportunity to have a grilled cheese sandwich."
"Yeah, that's what I'll have too; a grilled cheese sandwich."
"But Cliff, you hate grilled cheese sandwiches."
It's true, he does; he's just forgotten because it's been years since he had one. Back when we could eat anything we wanted, he let me know early on that grilled cheese wasn't his favorite. I, on the other hand, love them; anything with melted cheese is good, in my book.
"Now Cliff," I told him, "I am not going to use this occasion, just because you're sick, to give you something that (a) you don't like, and (b) isn't good for you.
So I ditched my plans for a cheese sandwich, got frozen veggies and cooked chicken from the deep freeze, and started making our healthy version of chicken gumbo... feeling sorry for myself, of course, because I WANTED MELTED CHEESE.
As I mixed and added ingredients to the gumbo pan, I thought to myself, "He's in the recliner; he hasn't moved out of it once since he got out of bed. How would he know if I made a grilled cheese sandwich?"
So I heated up a cast iron skillet on another burner and started putting my longed-for sandwich together.
I'd just turned it over in the skillet when I heard Cliff getting out of the recliner. Uh-oh.
I grabbed a lid and placed it on the skillet so he wouldn't see what was in it.
Turns out he had decided to go to bed for awhile; he was feeling pretty puny. I probably didn't need to cover my evil food.
Would you believe that was the awfullest-tasting grilled cheese sandwich I've ever had in my life? I don't know if it was due to guilt (me sneaking around trying to do something without Cliff seeing it), the whole-wheat bread I used, or the fact that I still have a slight fever.
I can assure you I won't be having a grilled cheese sandwich for awhile. I've paid my dues.