What's a few tiny explostions . . .?

The other day I decided I'd like to have egg salad for lunch.  So I promptly put four eggs in a pan, set the burner on high, looked at the clock and said to myself, "Self, come back in 15 minutes."

Of course, I went back to my office (the other end of the house) and started working on emails.

About forty-five minutes later my husband said, "What's that noise?"

"What noise?"

"The cats must be up to something.  I go look."

Ivy goes back to work.

"ARRRRRGGGGGGGGG--the kitchen is full of smoke.  The eggs have exploded!  The pan is ruined!!!"

Uh . . . I guess I kinda forgot about my lunch.

And, thanks to hubby's scrubbing power, the (Farberware) pan was NOT ruined.  It's once again shiny and back in the cupboard ready for it's next adventure.

Next time I make hard-boiled eggs . . . I'll set the timer on my desk.  (Yes, I keep one there.  Otherwise I forget cats out on the enclosed porch on winter days.)

Um . . . that is, I'll set the timer . . . if I remember.

Have you had any cooking disasters lately?

(P.S.  Honestly compels me to tell you that the above picture was not taken by me.  My eggs were far more interesting because they'd exploded.  So there were shells and yolks all over the place.  Rats.  Why didn't I take a picture?)