The Last Of The Leftovers

Last/Thursday night, after I came home from yet another late night at work, I ate the last three pieces of Kentucky Fried Chicken my parents bought more than two weeks ago.  (I'm alive and I think I'm not sick, by the way.)  With that, I think I have gone through all the leftovers my folks left for me in the refrigerator before they left.  My biggest priorities, obviously, were the items most perishable, so I took care of the milk, then the banana (the last of which I threw into a smoothie), then the rice, and finally the lettuce (which was more than I thought it would be; I had a salad two separate days).  There was less-perishable stuff, too, vegetables and the like, and I was able to find the time and the stomach to eat them as well.

If my parents found out it took about ten days to go through it all, they would probably be disappointed in me, so don't tell them.  See, I'm glad I got through them that quickly.  Now, there is food in the freezer, but I can take them, thaw them in the fridge, and eat them at my leisure.  Pressure to eat them before they spoil is, of course, non-existent (even though, to be completely transparent, there was a piece of bread I didn't get around to; I was going to eat it, but I saw spots of mold on it, and I didn't want to risk just throwing away the moldy parts, so I chucked it all, but don't worry, it was just a small-ish end piece).  The only pressure, actually, is to eat it all.  Mother went crazy and stored all these pastries in the freezer.  There are literally dozens of them.  She bagged them into groups of five thinking I would take out a bag Sunday, then take one pastry with me each day I go to work.  What she doesn't know is that I will instead eat two, maybe three of them at a time as dinner on days I don't want to spend cash.  Hey, it's my decision and they can't stop me!