When The Straps Are Down

One saying, I've embraced for almost the entirety of my existence is this:

"Necessity is the mother of invention."


Recently, a friend recounted how this particular quote came to mind as she was making her way through a very hectic week with her three elementary-aged children.

About 20 minutes later than her typical schedule, my friend awoke to the low hum of a fuzzy radio station.  Apparently, one of her many octopus children's tentacles had turned the volume down on her alarm clock radio. And, so the fun began.  She rushed to make sandwiches and snacks, prepare coffee, clothe and feed the children, and gave each of their heads of hair a lick and a promise.  In her haste to get herself ready to drop off a very important document immediately after carpool, she did not realize that she had forgotten a most cherished, recently discovered item in her clothing repetoire:





If you're not familiar with these by now, they basically keep you from looking like...
Well, like...

Like...

Well...

...someone who doesn't realize her bra is showing, and she looks kinda trashy class-challenged.

ANYWAY... my friend realized her faux pas just as she was exiting the car to go inside the building.    'Ahhh...,' she thought, 'I am SO smart... I packed a barrette for my daughter's hair.  I'll just use that.' Quickly, she located the barrette and threw both arms over and behind her head, ignoring the sheer agony of a rotator cuff that had been twisted into the shape of her last yoga instructor.  And, with all her might she finally reached one... two... bra.... straps.... Tada!  *POP* The barrette broke.

Frantically she searched through the pretzel remnants, petrified french fries and used hand wipes in the floorboard of her car, and thanks to the storage-genius of a certain American auto manufacturer, she located a gift bag.  Providentially, the handles were made of string!  Hurriedly, she yanked a piece off the bag, contorted herself yet again, tied a bow, lost one strap, tied another bow, which came undone, got yet another handle on the two straps and finally tied a sailor's knot in the string that would not budge.  Mustering up all the confidence she could that the string would not come flying out of her shirt, she walked in the building, handed the receptionist her paperwork and walked out with all onlookers having been none the wiser.

And, although the paperwork had been previously placed on an olive-oil laden countertop and had gone sailing onto the garage floor landing flatly on top of her freshly spilled coffee, the company contacted her the next day and offered her a job!

If you're waiting for a moral to this story, there really isn't one.  Sometimes, it's just nice to know that when the bra straps are down, help is only a gift bag away.

Happy inventing, mothers of necessity!

Comments

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