It's 12:15am. Do you know where your oven is?

Mine is in my backyard.

Like HIM, I am a night person. My energy level starts to rise around 10pm so I start projects, clean, do laundry, wash dishes. And cook.

Cooking was the problem.

Not too long ago I read about someone cooking bacon in their oven and tried it. It was a great idea. Put the bacon strips in a baking dish and the whole package gets cooked at once. Easy. The leftover bacon can be frozen for later use. So, I separated the bacon strips, put them in a deep-sided baking dish, popped them in the oven. Put some eggs in a pan on the stove for boiled eggs. Turned back to washing dishes. Then I smelled something. Something nasty. Turned around and black smoke was roiling out of the oven. I grabbed the small extinguisher by the stove and it was empty. I grabbed the large extinguisher by the steps. Empty. I grabbed the salt. Then I decided this was stupid. So I grabbed my son, called 911, called the nearest neighbor. DS and I hobbled down the road and waited for the fire department. I was quite calm. Usually I don't get nervous until after the fact. So it wasn't until we were in the neighbor's house explaining the facts when my stomach rebelled. No I did not 'toss my cookies' but I wish I had.

The fire had gone out by the time the brave volunteer firemen arrived. All five trucks and the ambulance. I know I had mentioned to the 911 operator that it was my oven on fire. Still, in this case having too many fire trucks is preferable to having too few. My house stinks. Wow does it stink. But there was no damage except to the oven and my ego. I am going to be fuel for the neighborhood gossips for a while. Oh, and the bacon is toast.

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