Oy, one of those nights

Every good cook has his or her bad days. The kind of day that ends in smoke alarms blasting, words that consist of four letters in every form (adjective, verb, noun, adverb), and general feelings of frustration. 

To the poor chicken who sacrificed his or her breast to me, only to have me sear it into oblivion, I'm sorry. I did salvage most of your contribution to dinner, gently shaving off the parts that were blackened beyond edibility. Please do not take my carelessness as a sign you died in vain--the SO still gobbled up the rest of you and swears you tasted good. 

Of course, he'd eat almost anything if I stuffed it with cheese, but that's another story :)