Yesterday was like Martha Stewart meets Sandra Bullock. Or something.

Dramatic occurrence #1: OK, so the lifts in our building aren't known for their reliability. In fact, it's guaranteed that if you've got an elderly grandmother in a wheelchair on the fifth floor wanting to leave, both lifts will be out of order. Yesterday, coming back from doing the shopping, I toddled into one of the lifts and hit my floor button. The doors slid closed smoothly.

And then nothing. We went nowhere. In my usual daze, it took me a few minutes to realise. I hit the open-doors button. The lift ignored me. I hit the Ground Floor button. The lift looked the other way and whistled. I hit the emergency stop (bells rang, but nothing), the open-doors button again, and again... but to no avail.

So I hit the alarm/phone button, and shouted at the operator down an absolutely awful line. Eventually I made her understand where I was (although she'll always think my name was Alana Evans) and then there was nothing to do but wait.

Well, wait and text-message anyone I could think of who might be around. Which meant John. But he provided amusement until they came along with their can-opener and got me out.

Dramatic occurrence #2: I baked a cake.

I did. Really. Chocolate, too. I discovered that creaming butter and sugar isn't easy when the temperature in the kitchen is roughly equivalent to the fridge anyway, but I prevailed. And then I got to lick the bowl.

This more than made up for being stuck in the lift.