Why I Don't Bake

Today was the day to cook the Amish Bread my mother-in-law gave me the starter for. After follwing the recipie quite carefully, I "cooked" the bread. I had to peek about 1/2 way through, and there seemed to be a little too much in the pans. But a little overflow isn't the end of the world, I thought. A few more minutes and a distinct smell began to fill the kitchen, that was in no way associated with bread. I checked again and the "spillage" was smoking - quite a bit. I turned on the vent and opened the front door. I placed cookie sheets on the rack below the bread to collect any future overflow and keep it off of the bottom of the oven. Another minute or so and smoke seemed to be billowing out of the oven. Another check revealed a small fire in the bottom of the oven. At this point, a small voice in the back of my head said, "Give it up. The bread is lost and so is your house if you don't take it out of the oven. P.S. why did you think you could do this?" Heeding the voice of reason, as I have now come to understand it, I removed the bread, and in doing so coated the oven mitts with batter. I began to feel that through the mitts. I opened the back door too. Again, the little voice: "May I suggest that maybe you were on crack when you decided to do this?" The bread was out, I removed the cookie sheets and stood back to admire my work. Admiration complete, I took pictures to share. And so I am posting these to say, I tried, I burned, I almost set the house on fire. I am going to microwave something for lunch now. And buy oven cleaner.