PSA

I don't usually give out a lot of advice here (I'm more of a moan-and-whine type, I guess). But I'm going to break with tradition today.
This advice is directed at those of you who are:
a) not in top form mentally right now (be it because you're over-tired, under the weather, depressed, on drugs, whatever)
b) not great cooks and
c) owners of small, worktop-sized ovens with a grill function for which you need to select "grill" or "oven" function manually

The advice:
If you use the "oven" function more often than the "grill" function, it might be a good idea to automatically return the button to the "oven" setting after making grilled cheese.

If you don't, one possible scenario is as follows:
a) whilst already running late for lunchtime, you pull a frozen mushroom pie out of the freezer and set the "oven" to heat up for the required 10 minutes;
b) you then place said mushroom pie in the oven, on the now-hot tray and set the timer for the required 30 minutes;
c) you go away and do something else, not paying any particular attention to the increasingly unpleasant burning smell for a good 20 minutes or so;
d) you eventually wander back into the kitchen and observe, rather casually as it would happen, that the aforementioned burning smell is considerably more unpleasant here than in your office;
e) you check out on the balcony (because of course, your first reaction is that the smell must be coming from outside, even though there are no open windows because it's ARCTIC out there);
f) you finally decide that maybe there's a problem with your yummy mushroom pie and go and have a look through the glass door;
g) you notice that the pie, though theoretically not yet fully cooked, is alarmingly BLACK and COAL-LIKE on the surface;
h) you open the oven door and observe pretty much critical (i.e. inedible) damage;
i) to confirm this observation, said pie then rather spectacularly BURSTS INTO FLAMES;
j) your almost 8-year-old daughter appears and starts shrieking about calling the fire brigade;
k) whilst keen to put an end to this culinary disaster and potentially dangerous situation, you are torn by the thought of the humiliation involved in bringing the fire brigade in;
l) you suddenly remember that fires need oxygen, so you close the oven door again;
m) the flames mercifully die out;
n) your already-late-to-start-with lunch is now dead (practically fossilised, actually) and you have no idea what the hell else you can cook because you will scream if you have to eat either pasta or rice again;
o) you end up eating a plate of boiled peas and carrots at almost 3 pm with about as much enthusiasm as you can imagine because there really is NOTHNG else;
p) as you try to remove the now-cold-but-still-charcoaled pie from the oven, it of course (being totally raw underneath) falls apart in your hands and splatters mushroomy goo and puff pastry charcoal chunks all over the inside of the disturbingly brown oven and the floor.

It really would be so much simpler if I just remembered to put the button back to "oven".

Not that this is a real story or anything, but you know. Just in case...