So hubby had nothing to do with this one. Me, all me. I am warming up some pizzas for dinner tonight. I put the oven on to preheat. About 10 minutes after I turn the oven on, it smells like something is burning. Hubby says "What are you burning tonight dear?" I reply, "I haven’t even put in the food yet." Those that know me know that the sign in the kitchen that reads "Dinner will be done when the smoke detector goes off" is very, very true. But I didn’t have any food in the oven yet! But I was wrong. I went and checked and when I looked in the oven, there was a fire inside. A FIRE? Yes, a fire.
"Honey, we have a fire in the oven" I state.
"What? How big a fire?" He asks.
"Big enough. It is kinda burning a lot." I start looking for the extinguisher.
Hubby hobbles in to the kitchen.
"Get me a towel!" He opens the oven and tries to blow out the fire, but it is too big for that. This isn’t a birthday cake honey! Not even yours! Oops, sorry. I shouldn’t pick on him. He is trying to put out a fire.
Anyway, he finally gets the fire out. Then he has to open up the doors and windows as the smoke detector is about to go off. Sigh.
And dinner isn’t even in the oven yet!
Further investigation of the burn site provided clues. There were two burned french fries. Well, one burned french fry, one was really unknown object because it was burned beyond recognition. Perhaps I should just stick to crafts. I haven’t ever lit them on fire yet.