Milking It for All It's Worth

This happened yesterday, October 17th. It's the previously mentioned incident that inspired this blog to begin with.
Like any rational human being working with children, I always bring extra clothes with me to work. In the two months I've been Little Guy's nanny, yesterday is the ONLY day that I've forgotten to bring clothes with me.
LG had chugged his sippy cup of milk and asked for more, so I went over to the refrigerator and took out a brand new, never opened half-gallon jug of milk. As I set it down on the counter, it, for reasons I will NEVER comprehend, exploded. EXPLODED. As in, the factory-sealed lid flew off and milk spouted and sprayed everywhere. I was soaked down to my bra, the entire kitchen was covered in milk, and LG was on the other side of the room, strapped into his high chair and giggling like a maniac.
So there I stood in the kitchen, dumbfounded and assessing the situation. I could feel a droplet of milk rolling down my neck, and when I shook my head I realized that my hair had also fallen victim to the onslaught. Finally, I located the lid and resealed the jug to put it back in the fridge, and then I took LG out of his highchair and set him up in his playpen with Rugrats playing on Netflix to keep him distracted while I cleaned up. By the time I was done in the kitchen, the milk that was all over me had begun to dry and was getting sticky. I threw the towels I'd used to clean up in the laundry basket along with my own clothing, and I took a quick shower while LG was still watching Rugrats. By the time I was redressed (in K's gym clothes, because I had forgotten my own extra clothes for once) and got LG's shoes on him, it was 1:40. We took all the laundry down to the laundry room in the basement, and he played with the laundry cart while I set up the washer. We took the elevator back upstairs, and at 2:15 we left the apartment again to go back downstairs to switch everything into the dryer.
This is when I discovered that the elevator was down for maintenance from 2:00 til 4:00. The basement, where the washing machine with all of my clothing was, is only accessible via elevator. We went back into the apartment and played with blocks until 3:00, when I put LG down for his second nap.
At 4:00, I raced downstairs to switch the laundry over, and promptly discovered that I'd forgotten to start the washer the first time. I started it, went back upstairs, and at 4:30 went back down to switch everything over, this time successfully.
By the time the dryer was done, it was 5:30. Four hours after the fact, I finally got my clothes back.
When N got home, I explained everything that had happened and he just sort of looked incredulous. I told him it was okay to laugh, at which point he let go, because, let's face it, when you're not he one with whole milk soaking your clothes, which subsequently get stranded in the basement, it's a pretty funny situation.
That said, here's to hoping this never happens again.