Losing My Pants

Last week, maybe two weeks ago, I lost my pants. Not my favorite pants by any means. Not even a pair I particularly like, but with our newly revised office dress code, it was a pair of highly valued khakis.

I’m not the most boring person in the world, but as a middle-aged, happily married mother of two, I seldom find myself in situations where one would tend to lose their pants. Most of the time, the pants I go to work in are the same ones I wear home (with one recent exception involving a trip to the Emergency Room, but that’s a different post.)

 

lost

I have searched the obvious places – my closet, dresser, hamper, even suitcases. No pants. I’ve even looked through my husband’s and son’s clothes, since both have a few pair of khakis and maybe mine accidentally was put away with theirs. Nope. No pants.

So the search continues, in less obvious places such as the kitchen, vehicles, and maybe even my daughter’s softball bag. You never know – stranger things have happened. In the meantime, I make the most of my remaining khakis, along with permissible blues and grays.

But if you happen to see my pants wandering the streets, tell them to come home.

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