Should Have Gone with My Instict

Tonight I decided to make a new recipe a friend of mine had posted for an easy, make-ahead breakfast egg thing. I had put Nathan down, but lately he's been having some bedtime issues (is there such a thing as an 18.5 month sleep regression?!), so he started in crying as I was getting started. I tried to let him work it out, but he was getting louder and more worked up, so I went in and we rocked for a few to calm him down. 

I went back to the kitchen to finish preparing the mini-quiches which are then baked in muffin pans. As I slide the pans into the oven, I briefly wondered if they were too full and/or if I should maybe set them on cookie sheets in case anything spilled over...

Meanwhile though, Nathan is crying again/still. I skip the cookie sheets, set the timer for 20 minutes, and go back to try to settle him down again. I emerge 5 minutes later and smell a bit of burning, but whatever. We made pizza the other night and some cheese probably dripped.

I go into the kitchen and start making a salad for my lunch tomorrow. I get the lettuce washed and shredded and have the water on with a handful of cherry tomatoes to rinse. The smoke detector WHICH IS RIGHT OUT SIDE NATHAN'S DOOR starts beeping madly. I look up and realize smoke has filled the room(s) to a haze near the ceiling.

I dash down the hall (tomatoes still in hand, kitchen faucet still running) with a newspaper to wave frantically at the smoke detector. It stops. I charge into my bedroom (right across the hall) and snatch our standing fan with my free hand. The plug is stuck in an outlet behind a massive hope chest. I yank the cord hard and tear it out of the wall. The smoke detector starts beeping again. I careen down the hall (bashing the fan into various walls as I go), still gripping my tomatoes.

I attempt to plug the fan one-handed into the outlet nearest the window. The cord won't stretch. The detector is still beeping. I leave the fan, grab a piece of cardboard, and gallop back down the hall (still clutching my tomatoes, faucet STILL running) and wave the cardboard frantically at the thing. It stops. I start back to the kitchen. It starts again. I swear in my head.

I try again (unsuccessfully) to jam the fan plug into an extension cord to the outlet under the cabinet, but realize in my haste to rip it out of the wall I've bent the prong thingy. I swear some more. I FINALLY set the tomatoes down (but no time to address the running faucet) and thunder back down the hall with a chair from the kitchen (nevermind that there's already a chair at the end of the hall that the cat's use to get to their food shelf). I clamber onto it and proceed to twist/yank the detector off the ceiling (I'm married to a firefighter - I'm going to have to confess this to him - he's on shift tonight), all the while thinking "IF THIS RACKET DOESN'T STOP AND THE BABY WAKES UP I SWEAR TO LUCIFER I WILL DROWN THIS EFFING PIECE OF EQUIPMENT IN THE TOILET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Detector in hand (now silent) I head back to the kitchen, contemplating whether or not to bash it to pieces with a hammer just in case it tries to make some kind of disembodied beep. I finally realize the water is running and turn it off. I straighten out the plug prong and finally get it plugged into an outlet in the living room so I can turn on the fan and starting blowing the smoke out the window.

I stand completely still for 2 minutes, holding my breath, waiting for Nathan to scream. Miracle of miracles, he doesn't. I check the monitor to make sure and he is, in fact, asleep. I pick up my tomatoes and resume rinsing them so I can finish my salad.

Lesson learned: when you put something into the oven in muffin pans that you've never made before and you BRIEFLY consider if you should maybe put them on a cookie sheet in case anything spills over... DO IT!!!!!!!!!!!

The end.