Oh yeah! The pound cake turned out to be scrumptious. 'course anything that involves a pound of sugar creamed into a pound of butter is orgasmic in my book, even before ya add the eggs, flour, and stuff. I did get carried away with the vanilla, tho. Which you wouldn't think could be done, considering the poundage i was working with. I love vanilla and so I didn't even bother measuring, I just dolloped that stuff in there and kept beating. That's probably one of the only times "vanilla" and "beating" are used in the same sentence while not referring to BDSM. Anyway, the pound cake tastes like ice-cream base to me, snarficilious.
My landlord didn't return. Which is ok, cuz I wasn't planning on using the kitchen sink tonight anyway. Besides, I've got two other usable sinkish type areas, counting the bathtub, if need be. And it's a lil too late to be calling them right now anyway. I'll deal with the rest of the clean up and all tomorrow. Including the huge industrial type ladder which is now bolted to my trailer, the stabilization tubing having developed transformer capabilities and all. That happens.
Excuse me while I go shove my face into the pound cake again.