On Sunday things seemed rather uneventful at the Barbie-cave. She was going out to go visit her Nana, I was sitting around doing chores and helping my kid with his homework assignment. There just seemed to be a nice air of tranquility due to a lack of unexpected mayhem that generally leads to the creation of stories for the blog.
That lasted until Barbie came home. She asked how far I had gotten in the laundry and I told her that whites were done and one load of blacks. The second load of blacks were in the dryer and first load of colours were in the wash.
“Why?”, I asked.
“I spilt my tea on my jeans and sweater”, she replied. “I hadn’t even left the street when I spilt it all over me.”
I started snickering because the sweater, being white, is one that has been victim to a few spills in the last couple of months and I will admit that not all of them were Barbie’s fault. So downstairs she went to go spray stain remover on her sweater to try to remove the stains. While down there she decided she’d just throw her jeans in the wash since colours had just begun their cycle. The jeans came off and tossed into the machine. Barbie started rifling through the blacks looking for pants, which given that almost all her work pants are black it was a good gamble. However, I had made sure that the working clothes were washed and dried first so there was none to be found.
Panic begins to develop in Barbie as she now realizes that all she has on is her t-shirt and underwear. Do to the layout of the house the odds of her being able to get up the stairs from the basement, walk past us sitting in the main living room and then up the next set of stairs to the bedroom to get pants, were really not looking so favourably.
So she starts to dig around the articles that just came out of the dryer. She found herself a nice big towel and quickly fashioned a skirt from it. To ensure that gravity didn’t mess with her plans Barbie then took her belt that was on her jeans and fastened it around the waist. At this point she marched herself up the stairs.
Upon hitting the stairs to go up to the bedrooms I noticed the rather odd attire that was being fashioned about the house. “Trying out for a remake of Braveheart?”, I smartly asked since it looked like a kilt. Barbie then regaled us with the story of what had happened. My son and I wasted no time killing ourselves in laughter as our Barbie defiantly marched herself up the stairs to get a proper pair of pants.