Despite the fact that my freezer has a lot of stuff in it, I feel like I really did some shit right with it tonight.
I had leftover cheesy grits from the big fried chicken dinner on Sunday, and thanks to Chowhound, I found out it freezes great. I sliced up some one-inch slabs and stuck them in the freezer. I mean, I was going to use the leftovers, but my attempt at making croutons from the leftovers failed pretty miserably last night. I'm glad I have more time now.
There was also a very large portion of "pork chalupas" sitting in my fridge, as well. I didn't even use the size of pork roast called for in the recipe. Mine was a good 1.5 pounds less and I got at least 13 servings out of that. I shudder to think about the "serving size" in the recipe, with a four-pound hunk of meat. I have six one-cup portions in the freezer now for later.
Finally, I threw a chicken carcass in there, too, tonight. Because with all the food (formerly) in my fridge, of course I had to buy a rotisserie chicken tonight. That's what happens when you go to the grocery store tired, hungry and spaced out. Then you see Denard Span in the dairy aisle, but it takes a fairly embarrassing triple-take to realize why that guy looks so familiar. Pretty sure that's why I decided I needed to buy the chicken, some hot peach preserves and a bake-at-home roasted garlic loaf to make a sandwich that I have dubbed "The Denard."
Also, what the fuck am I still doing out of bed? Jesus. Working until seven and then going to the gym, then going to the grocery store, then coming home, doing dishes, showering, watching Thursday shows ... it's fucking 11:00 before I even really sit down and think about anything.
Shit. I gotta get to bed, y'all.