A Letter to the Me Who Thinks I’ll Really Use That Thing I’m Putting in the Freezer

Hey there.

I see you’re making a pot roast today. Cutting up lots of celery, onion, and like such. Yeah, it could all go in the composter, but Thanksgiving is soon and some of those scraps could go in the pot to make stock. Stop right there. Take a deep breath. Step away from the celery tops. They don’t need to sit there in your Ziploc-sized freezer, taking up valuable real estate next to those fudge pops you got this summer thinking they would be as good as a Jello Pudding Pop (note: they aren’t).

See, you knew when you bought this house that the freezer was jacked up. You knew the people before you didn’t cook and that’s why it totally made sense to them to have fully three-quarters of the freezer devoted to an in-door ice maker. Because people who don’t cook and/or have kids have lots of time for the making of festive, fruity blender drinks which require lots and lots of ice. You are no longer one of those people, but your freezer doesn’t care.

I know how you get, you and that husband of yours. You channel your inner Great Depression Survivor (GDS). Like that time you got the spiral sliced ham because it was on sale so cheap. You remember? It came with a packet of glaze stuff. You were going to throw the glaze stuff away because you don’t like the glaze stuff and neither does your husband, but that night he was channeling his GDS, and GDS got all whoa, whoa there young whippersnapper, you might need that package of sodium erythorbate, brown sugar and sodium diacetate. Maybe one day you have a ham glaze emergency, yes?   And now, you often look kindly on your GDS because your husband HAS had a ham emergency or two in the meantime, and wow, who knew?

But that does not excuse the fact that you have let about 4 ounces of pulled pork become a grey, desiccated mess of ice crystals since that day two years ago when you decided it was too much to throw out, but you had to do something with it because it was about to Go Bad.

That does not excuse the FIFTEEN random popsicles scattered about, taking up valuable space that could be used for butter since The Kroger had it on special for $2.50 a pound last week. Did you get that butter? Did you buy butter, the building block of all that is delicious and creamy when it was about half the price it normally is? No, you did not. You didn’t get it because that would mean moving the mostly empty bags of peas and carrots and broccoli. The beer mugs chilling hopefully in the door of the freezer can’t be moved to make way for butter, no way. It would be a tacit admission that frosty, hoppy beverages are not on your radar right now.

It would mean throwing out a bag of what you believe to be shrimp and letting it sit outside in the garbage can, marinating in refuse, for three days until the garbage is picked up and every cat in the neighborhood will swarm to your yard– like the last time, after you had that crawfish boil– and then you’d be walking over squirrel carcasses the cats leave after they got all rowdy because of bellyfuls of crustaceans, but wait, you don’t like squirrels, so maybe that’s okay.

Your lack of freezer space now mocks you.  Its overloaded shelves and plastic containers full of Frozen Mystery Casseroles tell a story of conspicuous consumption like nothing else other than that bottom drawer in your bathroom where you keep all those partly used shampoos, conditioners, and disposable razors.

I beg you. Please stop with the I’ll Really Use This. You won’t. When in doubt, throw it out.



Your Rational Self




Just spit it out, already!

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