So Many Potatoes: The Story of my Freezer

fries with eyes

I suck as a homemaker, preferring to write and make art over cleaning, making meals, organizing, child-rearing, wifing, yard work, dog-owning, socializing, or anything else that resembles life as a competent family member.

The one part of homemaking I enjoy is Target, and that is where I spend all of our money and most of my time. Incidentally, I wish to buried there, under a floor tile in the Office Products section.

I foolishly buy all my groceries at Target, filling my cart with produce that could be had for half the price at a grocery store, but I tell myself it’s good to have the limits. After sifting through the wrinkly and overripe, I buy only those fruits and vegetables that are in tip top shape, thus limiting the choices I have to make. Our dinners are fascinating conglomerations of whatever is the easiest to throw on everyone’s plates that evening in semi-cooked form.

Here’s where the potatoes come into the story. Apparently I buy a lot of frozen potatoes, but immediately forget that I’ve done so, and without having used the first bag, I’ll buy more.

These are mostly potatoes in the form of fries, with the occasional Potatoes O’Brien thrown in that I intend to line the bottom of a quiche with.

It dawned on me yesterday that I’m not the fan of french fries I once was as a kid, but I keep trying to force myself to still love them. They’re the classic side to order with just about anything, so even if I don’t want them, my face automatically chooses them instead of any other option at restaurants.

Since I don’t love them as I once did, I don’t think about cooking any for dinner ever, so my freezer(s) (I OWN 2 FREEZERS) collect them by the bagful.

When my sister cleaned out my refrigerator and freezer the other day because she was disgusted by my lack of cleaning and organizing skills, she noted that she threw away an inordinate number of bags of potatoes. This struck me as totally hilarious and I nearly choked on my french fry and fell off my bar stool when she told me.

Needless to say, after some self reflection and journaling, I’ve ceased buying potatoes in any form unless I know for a fact that I will be making them that night for dinner, and my freezers have become much less cluttered. I encourage you to take stock of your pantry and fancy food storage receptacles and note which foods you tend to buy over and over again. There’s always something.

Tell me your secret. I’ll bet you hoard pancake mix or ketchup. Or even – gasp- plastic straws. Oh there’s a special place in plastic straw hell for you, missy.


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