A series of unfortunate events

It all started on Saturday night. I had volunteered to make French Toast Casserole for a social gathering on Sunday. I decided to double the recipe because you never know how many people will be there, and it's a really good recipe, so a double batch will be twice as good, right? I got to work Saturday, and although I have a rather large casserole dish, I could see it wasn't large enough to hold a double recipe. Did this make me reconsider? No, I just jammed everything in and left it in the fridge to marinate. Sunday morning I made the topping (made primarily of butter and brown sugar), spread it on the overflowing mass of French toast, and put it in the oven. Maybe you already know what happened, but I'll tell you any way. As the butter and sugar topping melted, it dripped down to the floor of the oven and burned. This produced a steady stream of smoke. My first reaction to the smoke detector going off was to turn off the oven. Then I put tin foil in the bottom of the oven to catch the dripping butter. The smoke detector stopped beeping, and deciding I'd fixed things, I went back to watching General Conference. When the timer rang (I'd allowed 30 minutes of cooling time before I needed to transport the hot casserole dish), I went in to the kitchen only to find that the oven was off, just as I had left it, and the casserole was not baked. At this point, I didn't know what to do. I was committed to be somewhere with food in half an hour, and had nothing. If I baked the dish, it would be too hot to carry when it was time to leave. If I didn't I would have to go with nothing. I turned the oven on, and decided to figure out what to do later (later being in 1/2 an hour. Hey, I'll procrastinate for any amount of time). So, ten minutes later the smoke detector started beeping again. For a while I just left the butter to burn and madly tried to fan the smoke out of the window. That didn't last too long before I was frantically yelling for Erin to take the battery out of the smoke detector amidst my choking on the really, quite impressive amounts of smoke. I gave up. I turned the oven off and fled from the kitchen. Erin advised leaving the half-baked casserole behind, and just going to the brunch empty handed. Did she really think I was capable of such a thing? Yes, it was the wise thing to do, but I almost never choose the wise thing. I wrapped tin foil over the top of the casserole dish, got two potholders, and set out on the 13 block walk to our destination. I put the dish down approximately once a block and complained about carrying it nonstop (going so far as to predict the imminent "end of the world" if I dropped it), but we were making slow and steady progress. Then I noticed that the as I walked and shifted the dish around, I was slowly spreading butter and sugar all over myself. Very upsetting, but I still wasn't deterred. No, we carried on until all of a sudden, I could no longer move forward. I was very confused, and just about to say something to Erin about this strange feeling that I couldn't go on, and it wasn't, for once, because of what I was carrying, when this guy walking behind us yelled out "Didn't you notice you dropped your yarn?" Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I'd tucked my knitting into my already full bag, and of course, the ball of yarn had fallen out, and I had now trailed yarn for almost an entire city block. I put my casserole dish down on the ground, and yelled encouragement as our new friend and I watched Erin run back down the block (all the while carrying the trifle dish that we were returning) and try to one-handedly (is that a word?) untangle the yarn from the mailbox it was caught on, and return to my side while bundling it up (all of which the guy found very amusing).
Thus it was that I arrived at my friend's doorstep covered in butter and brown sugar with a trifle dish full of yarn and a half-baked casserole. Who wants to invite me over to their house next?
PS Erin gets the credit for the posting title.