Incinerated Balls!

This is not, as you might think a rant about my absent spouse and what I'd like to do to him, or even how I would like to deal with the British Prime Minister or the soon-to-be ex-President of the USA,

I am angry with myself for wasting food and energy.

I had planned a pasta supper and remembered that in the freezer I had some garlicky dough balls. Oh Yum. I put the oven on, put in the dough balls, cooked the tortelloni, added a good shot of pesto and dished up. I had carefully timed everything so that by the time I had everything on a tray, including a nice glass of wine, the dough balls would be cooked.

I forgot them.

About an hour later I noticed the smell. When I got in the kitchen I also noticed that it was quite smoky and I realised what I'd done and started to swear. The cat dived out through the catflap into the rain and wind, alarmed at the shouting. Incinerated balls out, kitchen door open for a few minutes and the extractor fan on high. The gas oven should have been on for less than 20 minutes including heating up time. It was on high for an hour and a half and I've wasted food which I hate to do really. Not even the birds would touch the remains, they are absolute cinders.

My consolation is a whole bar of almond and raisin chocolate and another glass of wine. I don't care if the combination gives me a headache. And I bet the kitchen will STILL smell in the morning, extractor or not.