Our First Fire

At 9:00 p.m. I decided to make a red velvet cake that I had bought at Kroger at approximately 8:50 p.m. It was something of a comedy of errors that culminated in our first fire. Here's what happened:

1. At the store I didn't know what kind of icing to get. I called Sarah, but, apparently, she had more important things to do with her Saturday night than help me with my icing decisions.
2. When I got home we didn't have oil. Or eggs. I decided to substitute melted butter. And just use less eggs.
3. I sneezed all over everything.
4. I looked down at the oven and it was smoking. I yelled at Matt, "Did you spill crap in the bottom of the oven? Because it is smoking!" He said he didn't but ran over (a guilty run, I think). He opened the oven and there was a flame under the bottom of the oven, down where I thought the cookie sheet drawer was. Is that what gas ovens are supposed to do? No, it's not. Matt tried to blow the fire out, but had a hard time. I freaked out because we don't have a fire extinguisher. He eventually got it blown out and looked up at me. "There's a taquito down there. It's charred." Yup, to add insult to injury, we had taquitos for dinner Thursday night. One of them had fallen down into this little oven compartment that seems to exist for the sole purpose of hiding taquitos so that they can catch on fire later.
5. As we tried to clean up all the burned on taquito char I told Matt, "Cleaning up burnt-on taquitos at 9:30 on a Saturday night is not exactly how I envisioned my life." Matt replied, "Really? This is pretty much what I was expecting."

So there.