My oven broke.
When I was trying to roast two chickens and a big roasting pan of vegetables.
Somewhere between Grover stealing Jasper’s fingerbun (I know I KNOW), Jasper’s sugar-overload meltdown and me dropping about half a kilo of freshly made breadcrumbs all over the kitchen floor.
I have 20 people coming to dinner on Sunday.
I have a LOT of baking to do between now and then.
I am so NOT happy.
I have one of those posts written with my favourite recurring theme of what fresh hell is this that the last two days have been. But really,
my oven is broken
says it all.