So down the sink the boiling water goes and in the skillet the chicken cooks.
Now what...that was totally not my plan. It's almost like turning up a beer when you think it's a sprite. I'm cooking the chicken staring at it wishing it was never taken out of the freezer. I think I'm just going to pout for ten more minutes. I know I know, life isn't fair and I'm no Rachel Ray. But dang, chicken salad = the two words my tummy has been screaming for the past hour.Now it's just screaming ugly words at me.