Why is there shampoo froth on the kitchen floor?

Slowly roasting a chicken at 110°C for 6-8 hours sounded like a nice idea for a cold day. . Gently anointed with oil and with garlic tucked into appropriate places and apricot stuffing. (Well those dried apricots that went dark and had been lurking in the freezer had to go somewhere.)
It was going to be quite a cooking day. Florence Nightingale Soup using a recipe from a library book. Chicken and noodles and rice and a multitude of veg ready to share with the masses at Monday's soup kitchen. Sandwiches - of many varieties to serve at church lunch. Plenty in case people forget to bring stuff or for unexpected guests. Freekeh salad. (Who on earth calls a trendy grain freekeh? Especially when you have only just come to  terms with the fact that quinoa is heaps expensive and is pronounced 'keen wha'. ) Then perhaps whipped apple jelly with custard on top. Not that I do desserts but the kids at lunch (and there are some older folk who are big kids) might like it.
So  in the oven  went the chook and off I went to the shower. Warm water, frothy shampoo ... and the piercing sound of the smoke alarm. Will he hear it in the garden and respond? The second alarm kicks in. So loud even the neighbours must hear it.
Surely it will stop. There can't be anything much going on. The oven is only on at 110° and I even cleaned it recently after a terrible smoke episode. Is that how everyone thinks before they burn to death?
So out of the shower, wrap myself in a towel and pad out to the kitchen. The oven is quietly smoking even though it didn't complain when I cooked quiches last week. Turn on exhaust fans, open doors, explain to him who has finally come in from the garden and then back to the shower.
And that's how come there is shampoo on the kitchen floor. Sigh!