Musings on the Worst Banana Bread Ever

I am writing this from the straits of destitution found beyond the abyss which is found just past the brink of insanity.  I officially fell into the abyss last night around 10 pm.  

I decided to bake some banana bread from a recipe my neighbor gave me (thanks Michelle!)  My fatal mistake was deciding to bake it while getting the kids ready for bed and trying to watch/listen to the presidential debate.  I was measuring out ingredients when the kids decided that they absolutely had to help me with this.  It was their bedtime, so there was much whining and complaining as I escorted them to bed.  I came back to the recipe and mixed everything together, put it in the bread pan and proceeded to bake it.  After 40 minutes at 350-degrees, I checked on it.  It was soup.  I turned the oven higher and proceeded to bake it longer - still soup after 20 more minutes.  

I believe in my haste to get everything done with the kids hanging on me and the debate on the TV, I used powdered sugar instead of flour.  In a misguided quest for complete organization around here, I recently put all my staples in clear storage containers in the pantry.  Evidently, I didn't take the time to read the label "powdered sugar".  (See what that organized living crap does for you?)  

I decided to try and put two cups of flour in the banana/sugar soup and see what it would do.  I put it back in the oven and baked it for another 40 minutes.  

The result rivals any scientific experiment I've ever seen.  A brown banana blob.  I tried a tiny bit of it.  It was so sweet, I could feel the decay starting to form on my teeth.  I threw the blob in the trash.  

It has left a very strange residue on the metal bread pan.  I may have to throw the pan out too.  (Sadly, it wouldn't be the first time I've ever had to do that.  Ask my husband about a "fudge" incident in the late '80s.)  

But perhaps the weirdest thing I've ever done was when I was ironing out a shirt for my husband back in the days before we had kids.  I could smell popcorn as I was ironing.  I realized that I had accidentally filled the iron with water from a measuring cup that I had used the night before for measuring cooking oil.  I had to throw out my husband's dress shirt and an iron that time.  

Somewhere in the world, Martha Stewart sensed a disturbance in "the force" last night.  She probably wouldn't be able to sleep at night if she knew that there is someone like me out there roaming free and causing all kinds of culinary/housekeeping mayhem.  

Discuss amongst yourselves.