I like my oven mitts well done, thank you.

I made pizza yesterday.  I actually made it.  Crust, sauce, everything.  And in the process I cooked an oven mitt.

I had initially started the pizza creation as a way of procrastinating.  I figured making some pizza dough would give me something to do that wasn’t reading my Restructuring assignment, so I decided to make it in the afternoon and have pizza for dinner.  I put the dough on an oven mitt in the warm oven so that the bottom wouldn’t burn while it rose.  I then removed the dough and neglected to remove the oven mitt.

Fast forward many hours later when I decided to actually make the pizza.  I was preheating my oven and chopping up vegetables and I heard a smoke detector.  “I wonder whose smoke detector that is,” I thought.  “It’s really loud.”

Then I realized it was so loud because it was in my apartment.  Then I remembered the oven mitt.  I sprang into action and removed the oven mitt, now slighlty charred and definitely crispy, and turned on the fan and opened the door.

The smoke detector would not stop.  I disabled it by removing the batteries, but that was a chore in and of itself because the only chair I have in my apartment is my wheeled desk chair, so when I tried to climb on it to reach the detector, it went careening out of control.  I managed not to fall by grabbing the door frame, but I did crash into my drying rack and knock my clean clothes to the ground.

Then I had to burn candles to try and disperse the smell of baked oven mitt, and I was slightly concerned the pizza would taste like oven mitt when I actually got around to cooking it, but it did not.  In fact, it was rather tasty.

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