All Because of the Banana Bread

I had a funny feeling.
Though there was a voice telling me to stop, I went ahead with the preparation process because the color and the texture of the bananas were simply perfect. Today is the day. They were ready, and so was I.
It was as natural and easy as breathing. Every step was just right, and I felt as if I was born to do this. I became one with the instruments and together we performed a harmoneous symphony. When I saw the airy pale yellow fluff of butter and sugar, I had to take a moment to admire just how perfect it was (and to give my right arm a break from all that beating it did). I knew if Martha were here, she'd say, "It's a good thing, Kate." I did good, and I didn't want to stop.
While it was baking in the oven, I decided to make a pasta sauce for dinner. The voice in my head wanted me to stop right there, but why should I listen to it when I was on a roll and feeling invincible? I've succeeded many times before, and I didn't think I could possibly fail today.
Boy, was I wrong.
Everything was wrong from the get go. The onion felt a tad too hard. Cloves of garlic seemed to have grown legs and the chopping board became the battle field from which they were trying to escape. The knife felt so dull that I almost lost my patience while dicing the strips of chicken breast. After I'd finished all the cutting, I put too much heat and not enough oil, so it wasn't sauteed properly. In my attempt to multitask, the tomatoes were falling apart on the cutting board while the chicken pieces were only half cooked in the pot. As frustrating as it was, however, I was determined to get it done.
Then I saw it.
I only caught a glance of it from the corner of my eye, but it was enough to break out a cold sweat. My would-be-perfect banana bread was rising way too much out of the loafpan. Though I didn't know what exactly, I knew had to do something about it.
First I had to drop what I was doing. I quickly spooned some tomato paste into the pot, gave it a quick stir and put the lid on. Even in the midst of such crisis, I was level-headed enough to remember to put my mittens on first. WAIT! I was faced with a quandary as I stood in front of the oven: Should I risk ruining everything by taking out the loafpan? If I don't, who knows how much higher it's going to rise? "What would Martha Stewart do?" I decided to leave it in the oven for the time being and go on Martha's website to look for answers.
The entire apartment was filled with a blended aroma of tomato sauce and banana bread. While I was browsing, however, the smell of tomato sauce became increasingly overwhelming and it smelt..... BURNT! I took off from my desk and made a bee line to the kitchen.... opened the lid.... and yup, the bottom of the pot was sizzling black with small pieces of chicken stuck on it. Defeated, I turned the stove off and took a deep breath to fight back the urge to toss the pot out the window. On the way out of the kitchen, I took a look at the banana bread and it looked just super in the soft yellow light of the oven.
I thought I should clean up the kitchen before I tackled the burnt pot. I was still mourning my burnt pasta sauce and was so absent-minded that I put a box of ziplock bags into the refrigerator and a packet of ground beef on the top of the fridge. I also accidentally touched the piping hot oven door with my bare shoulder. It may sound silly, but the series of those less-than-ideal events bred contempt toward the banana bread. If it weren't because of its unusual rising, none of this would've happened.
Almost as punishment to the banana bread, I stopped paying attention to it. I didn't care if it'd turn out okay. Childish, I know.

3 hours after the oven had turned off by itself, I took the banana bread out of the oven and.... I don't mean to toot my own horn but it's absolutely perfect. The top is browned just right while the inside remains moist. The edges are a bit crunchy (just the way I like it), and it oozes rich banana-y sweetness. It brings a smile to Bill's face and it makes me feel all fuzzy and warm. A burnt pot of pasta sauce for a loaf of perfectly-baked banana bread. Guess it wasn't that bad after all.

In case you're wondering....
1. I managed to save some of that pasta sauce 'cause it was only burnt on the bottom and the rest of it was still okay. Unfortunately, I don't think we'll be able to save the pot.
2. My shoulder wasn't burnt when it touched the oven door. It was just a bit ouchy.
3. No animals or humans were hurt during or after consuming the banana bread. As for the pasta sauce... we'll have to wait and see.