I almost burned down the apartment so I wouldn't have to pack.

Last night I made a brilliant fish chowder using various food from the freezer. I used up the last of the onions, corn, the frozen fish mixture, and one bag of potatoes. It was annoying to chop up everything as I could only find our tiny cutting board that is incredibly unpractical. I cursed having to cook with stuff already packed away.

I made biscuits to go with the chowder to use up some of the baking supplies and because fresh biscuits are delicious. So I was cooking along and as my last biscuits turned out kind of flat, I thought maybe it was because I didn't fully pre-heat the oven (I usually get impatient and just put the baking in whenever it is ready). This time, I decided, I was going to fully pre-heat it and the biscuits would be even that much better.

I was cooking with my oxygen on which still makes me a bit nervous. I know rationally that it would take a spark close to the oxygen line for it to become a super oxygen bomb. I turned on the oven to pre-heat and was working on mixing up the biscuits while waiting for the sauce to thicken up a bit. There was a weird smell coming from the oven but I figured that some sauce must have spilled over and was burning off or maybe the chard bits under the element were smoldering some more (I am not the neatest chef).

I finished up the biscuits, put them on the cookie sheet,  and went to put them in the oven when I opened the door only to find the source of the weird smell.

The two large wooden cutting boards that I thought Isaiah had packed away were sitting in the oven with smoke oozing out of them. My immediate thought was that it was somehow going to kill me so I completely panicked. With very little rational thought I threw the cookie sheet on the counter, shut off the oven, and ran out of the kitchen.  I thought for sure the boards were going to suddenly catch on fire which would, of course, result in me becoming an exploding ball of fire.

After a few deep breaths, I somewhat (but not completely) more rationally, shut off my oxygen, grabbed a dishcloth and opened up the oven door long enough to throw the smoking cutting boards on the floor. I furiously called Isaiah (he is visiting his dad for the weekend) to see why he was trying to kill me. Apparently he had put the boards in the oven to dry them out a little bit. Mission accomplished.

I lite some candles (somewhat panicked that the extra oxygen in the air would cause the flames to become super flames...I obviously still have no idea how oxygen works) and turned on all the fans to air out the kitchen a bit. In the end, my chowder turned out deliciously. I made way too much so someone needs to come help me eat it all.

Yum!! Too bad I almost died for it.