How now brown towel

Sometimes it's good to wait until really late before writing my blog (or my blogity blog blog, as Anna calls it).

Originally, this was going to be a lengthy tale of Anna's failed attempts at an omelette - she basically added too much milk, it went incredibly watery, it took twenty minutes to cook, and then it just fell apart, and the bottom burnt. It was one horrible mess. She dished it up and said, "Jamie Oliver, eat your heart out!"
Dad quipped, "I think he'd prefer to."

But then something else happened. Which somehow was lots funnier. Anna passes the internet cable to me to use, stands up from her chair, and starts rifling through the clothes hung on the back. "Have you seen my towel?"
"The towel hasn't been on your chair for ages," I said.
"It was there Saturday when I washed my hair. It's my brown one. Where's my brown towel gone? How now brown towel?"
We both suddenly collapse into hysterics and Anna can barely stand up from laughing. She then starts searching the room: under the desk; behind the radiator; in the bathroom next door; in her washing bags; the back of her chair again; the bathroom next door again; between her duvet and top blanket... All the time muttering, "Where is my brown towel? I had it..."

In the end I said, "If you're sure it's not in the wash cycle, look in the bathroom cupboard. I bet someone took it off the dryer and put it in there."
"But I had it in here!" she whines.
"Where now brown towel?"
This only sets us off again and we even start to manipulate the lyrics of One Love by Blue to fit the situation, which is fitting since it's playing on Anna's media player:

I don't wanna give up, I don't wanna give in,
The towel has disappeared
I don't wanna give up, I don't wanna give in
Gotta keep looking
Brown towel, where have you gone?
Brown towel, oh gone so long
Brown towel, where do you hide?
How can I survive?

We didn't get much further because we just collapsed in hysteria again. We should really drink less caffiene.