The Pan Calling the Hot Pad Black

If you were standing in your kitchen facing your oven, approximately how long would it take you to figure out that it's on fire? One second? Two and a half seconds? False. I figured this out yesterday. According to my calculations, if standing in your kitchen, facing your oven, and witnessing smoke billowing from the cooktop it would take 31.4 full seconds to comprehend "uh-oh" and then 2 more seconds before "For crying out loud WOMAN! Take burning pot off the stove before you burn the house down!!" actually registers. Maybe I should back up a bit and really get into the story:
So THERE I WAS: boiling a pot of pasta. When it was done I took it off of the burner and placed it on the burner next to me. I pulled the glass pan of chicken out of the oven and placed the pan on top of a hot pad directly on top of the hot burner. I know, I know. In my defense, it IS a glasstop so there were no obvious visual reminders and I am a reminder kind of personality.
I close the oven and stir the pasta one more time before emptying the water. A smoky smell reaches my cute little nostrils and I realize I've burned the dang chicken. Grr. Wait, the chicken is smoking. . . man, I really burned the chicken! Hmmm, why is the smoke getting worse, I guess I should pull off the aluminum foil and see how bad it's burnt. That's strange. It's not burnt. Then where is all this smoke coming fro-. . . . . . . . . . . . . ."uh-oh". . . . . . . . . . . . "For crying out loud WOMAN! Get the burnin' pot off the stove before you burn the house down!!"
The pot was not on fire, thankfully so I pushed it to the side onto a cool burner. The hot pad (poor thing) was completely black and smoking chimney's. I hate smoke smell in my house so I quick decide to toss it out in the fresh air on the deck. Turns out our sad little pad was, in fact, on fire. Oopsie! What, am I in the market for a new kitchen AND a new deck? So I have to pick it back up, run back inside, and drop it in the sink with some water. My neighbors must have love that: the crazy new lady next door tossing a smoking pad out onto the deck-pausing- then squealing and picking it back up to run back inside with it. Nice.
Madisen walks in, "Mom, are you roasting marshmallows for dinner?" Nope sweetie, just toasting my kitchen fabrics a bit.
Guess what? The pad was not the only casualty. My pan didn't make it either. But on the bright side the chicken DID make it so we were able to have it for dinner. It's unfortunate though, that after all that the dinner was just barely edible. It seems if I'm going to accidentally burn down my kitchen and then rescue it with superhuman zip-speed & precision I should at least be rewarded with a great tasting hunger satisfying meal.

I'll remember that for next time.
Sad little pad now awaiting a final burning in a more appropriate setting

Dead dish.^