The lord of the ham

I'm on a mission! Which I'm not really that hyped about...

So my dad and I decided to start making the, uhm, Christmas ham. Yes, ham. Like a pig. A dead pig...
Anyhow, it's supposed to be in the oven for about 50 minutes per kilo, and this was 4 kg. The thing now is that someone will have to watch over it to make sure nothing is catching fire and that it doesn't stay for to long in the heat.

That someone would (not that surprisingly) seem to be me. Yay...
So I'm the Ham guard! Or protector of the... whatever. It's just me sitting in my room not even close to the oven, waiting for it to go BEEEEP. And then, it's time for a bucket. You see, we will have to put it outdoors since there is no space in our fridge. In order to not having all the animals in northern Europe to eat it, I'll have to find a nice fitting, or at least big enough, metal bucket for cover. Awesome!

Seriously, why didn't we just wait until tomorrow and begin it in the afternoon instead!?
But oh well, I like ham so I guess I can't complain too much about it.

Btw, does this make me a hamster? I'm frying ham, so the verb of ham should most reasonably be haming? And the one doing it should be a hamster, right?

You know what? I'm just gonna stop here and let you know about the outcome of this, once it's done.