Of cats and cakes

Chloe the kitten has learnt to open doors. She's already figured out that she can open one of the kitchen doors by butting it against the frame so it bounces open a bit and she can get her paw in the gap. Nothing too impressive. However, the other day I was in the conservatory and she opened the kitchen door by standing on the cooker and turning the handle. How long till she masters sets of keys?
On the other hand, she also does some pretty weird stuff, like pick up the plug from the bathroom sink and carry it all over the house. I think she pushes the top of the squeezy soap while she's up on the sink too, as the other day I went in there and there was a big pool of soap.

Cats are weird.

I baked a cake yesterday. This might not seem like too much of a feat, but you have to consider my utter lack of culinary skills. I was once left with a pasta bake, and instruction to heat it for 20 minutes. I forgot about it and left it for 2 hours. It looked like something out of Apocalypse Now. I got through my second year of uni on the basis that Julie, now my sister in law, would cook for me.
So, anyway. I made a cake. It turned out well, except our oven gets hotter than the dials lead you to believe, so I burnt it and it stuck. So that sucked. Still, the cake tastes good.

Yeah, I appreciate this isn't a very interesting post, but Alison was away all weekend so I've not done much of note.