Smells like chicken... or not

I walked into the back door of my home today and began frantically searching for my parents, whom I could only assume had died of smoke inhalation, as the house smelled quite like a fire had just recently been extinguished.

I was wrong.

Instead, the maternal unit had started boiling chicken for a chicken salad she had planned and then made the mistake of beginning to read a good book. The book was good enough for her to become so engrossed in it that she forgot all about the chicken.

You would think that the smell of scorched and burning chicken would bring her from her stupor. However, you must remember, if you didn't already know this, that the maternal unit has no sense of smell.

The paternal unit apparently does not either... unless of course he was smoking his pipe, in which case he might be off the hook. Once the rolling black smoked started pouring from the kitchen, the maternal unit ran to turn off the stove and open all the windows to air out the house.

This happened three hours before I came home. The smell was still VERY strong when I arrived.

Plan B was to make more chicken (yeah!) with mixed veggies and baked potatos.

And bread. She made bread too. Cut and sliced pieces of bread - buttered them and put them under the broiler.

And. Forgot. Them.

When I arrived in the kitchen to see dark smoke rising from the oven... well... let's just say that the smell of burning bread is just about the only thing that will cover the smell of scorched and burning chicken.

I am pretty sure that's why she burned the bread.

At least that's our story... and we're sticking to it!