This afternoon we took the kids to the wave pool. Between the swimming and it being the first day after the time change we knew they'd be starving as soon as we got home. So we planned a roast beef dinner and set the oven timer to come on while we were out. I crushed garlic and rubbed it over the roast. I was excited by our domesticity. We'd be able to walk in the door to the scent of a nice home cooked meal and sit down and eat right away: a nice Sunday dinner to top off a nice afternoon activity with the family.
It was a great plan.
We, um ... skipped the step where you put the roast in the oven.
We were at the pool when Jeff turned and me and said something along the lines of "you did put the roast into the oven, right?" My witty reply was along the lines of "No, didn't you put it in the oven?" At which point we both understood that our oven was at that moment heating thin air while the roast sat on the counter.
We fed the girls snacks for supper and Jeff and I ate late.*
Next time we go swimming, maybe we'll just plan to pick up pizza.
(*The roast was delicious.)