An EPIC Disaster

So those of you who REALLY know me (like you spend time in my home) know I'm not really adept at the gentle art of house cleaning. Oh I can do it, I just don't like to.

I can whip up a hearty and delicious dinner. I can make some top-notch cookies (after a few curses and more flour than is necessary, I really need to work on my baking). I can provide clean sheets However, I cannot clean toilets, wash windows, or vacuum floors.

Or, apparently, clean my self-cleaning oven.

See I roasted some chicken on Sunday. It was delightful. However, the fat dripped down to the heating element and smoked up the whole house pretty nicely. And also later that night when I made breakfast muffins for the week. And then again tonight when I heated up some sourdough bread to go with dinner.*

So I decided I would self clean my oven. After dinner, I put the dishes away and pressed the nice, little self-clean button on my oven. Thinking "This will be awesome! A clean oven in 3.5 hours and all I had to do was press a button!"

WRONG!

I once again smoked up the house. Big time. As in like we had to open several windows. And doors. And the smoke detector still went off. Twice.

Did I mention that our smoke detectors are not battery operated and are, in fact, hooked up to our electricity? Yeah, they are.

So this sent A and myself out into the night to get away from the noise that was clearly not a healthy meal for her ears.

There were some tears on her part.

And it was cold outside. And I didn't put her in warm jammies because, hello?!?!? the house is warm! Why would I want to overheat my precious little baby girl???

So picture me in my green work sweater, navy pj pants and pink fluffy slippers. Oh, and pearls. A in her pink footed jammies, and white hooded jacket in the backyard. Now picture us with me in a backwards snuggie wrapped around both of us. Now picture E running around the house opening and closing windows and doors in order to get the best possible draft going. Now hear the smoke alarms.

Now imagine being our behind neighbors and having a front-row view of all this.

I'm pretty sure this is what they call a FAIL.


*I said go with dinner, not for dinner. However, if I was still single, several pieces of sourdough bread spread with butter and toasted in the oven would = perfection.