Amazingly after I have no idea how long, it finally started to resemble dough. The dough and I needed to rest, so I sat down with the remaining rum and some lunch. Phew!
After resting for a half hour, I kneaded the beast a few more times and set it aside to rise (hopefully).
Back to the original Oops Bread. Oh.My.God. I've overestimated the size of this loaf, and it's more than doubled it's size in less than half an hour. I slash away (with one eye closed expecting it to fall), slop on some egg wash and pop it in the oven.
Insert fanfare here:
Phew! Pulled that one off. And now back to the behemoth blob...Greg's mom asked me to make mini-loaves, so I divided the dough up into eight minis, and two large loaves. As you can see, the minis came out perfect, but where I underestimated the size of the original Oops Bread and used too small of a pan, I overestimated the size of these two and used too small of a pan. Oh well, I suppose I can't have everything go swimmingly, can I?
Everything I've read tells me bread baking must be precise, one must carefully weigh or measure the ingredients in order to have success. This philosophy has always worked well for me because I'm a perfectionist. But I'm about to get up to clean my flour-flung kitchen in which I had a blast throwing this, that, and the other ingredient into a couple of seemingly hopeless piles of dough. I forgot about depression and the oddly-named arachnoiditis which is causing a huge amount of pain, and have some great loaves of bread to show for it.