Wednesday, May 19, 2010

The curious case of the missing pants

“I can’t find my…”

These four words begin about 40% of the sentences uttered in this household.

I am not the one doing the uttering.

Pythagoras has always been absentminded, but a recent announcement gave me pause.

“I can’t find my pants,” he declared. “My favorite pants.”

“Um, OK,” I said, trying not to be alarmed about where my husband might have left his pants and how he arrived home without them. “When did you have them last?”

He thought about that a minute. “Maybe when we went to Greece. Or maybe a month after that, I’m not sure.”

I frowned at the calendar. “We went to Greece in June. You’ve been hunting for your pants this whole time?”

Apparently so. He turned the closet upside down looking for them. I searched the guest rooms, thinking maybe he’d overlooked them. We called my parents, thinking perhaps he’d left them there on a visit. We searched his workplace, thinking…um, actually, I’m not sure what we were thinking.

But the pants were gone. My overactive imagination ran wild. Had aliens abducted them? Had a badger eaten them? Had I somehow failed to notice a day my husband came home from work wearing only his shirt and shoes? The possibilities were endless.

We spent an entire day at the mall searching for a replacement. None were adequate. “These aren’t like the old pants,” he insisted.

“You do have three or four identical pairs though, right?”

He shook his head sadly. “The other ones were the best shade of gray.”

Fearful the grief might prompt him to go pantsless to brunch the next morning, I grabbed one of the identical pairs from the closet and hopped on the computer to see if I could find an online vendor selling them.

I searched for an hour, finally locating what I thought might be the right color, cut, and style. “Pythagoras,” I yelled. “Come look at these online and tell me if I should place an order.”

He wandered into the bedroom, looked at the picture on the screen, then looked at the pants in my lap.

“Where did you find my pants?”

I stared at him. “These are your missing pants?”

He nodded. “Where were they?”

I closed my eyes, realizing – not for the first time – there are reasons the female praying mantis bites off the male’s head after mating. “They were in Greece,” I told him. “I flew there this morning to get them.”

So my husband has his pants back. And at least for now, I have the assurance he did not leave them in the front seat of an ice cream truck driven by a transvestite stripper.

Because really, that was my next guess.


Cynthia Reese said...

This could so have happened at my house. And resist the urge to channel a female praying mantis.

Martina Boone said...

Laughing. Love, love, love this post. My favorite is always when my hubby wants me to tell him what to wear and then complains because he doesn't want to wear any of the five outfits I suggest. Where's that machete when I need it?

CKHB said...

Oh lord. Yesterday I told my husband that the clean pants he wanted were in the closet. He insisted they weren't, and made do with a lesser pair. I checked later. THEY WERE RIGHT THERE. Gah.

Claire Dawn said...

Catch phrase of the day! "Where are my pants" Made even more hilarious by the fact that none of my Japanese coworkers will understand me! Yay!

Jennifer X said...

Awesome. What is it with guys and LOOKING? Scanning over an area, touching stuff like he's looking...move stuff! Irks me soooo bad.

Patty Blount said...

wiping water snorted over screen
mopping eyes

I blame the Y chromosome. I tell my guys constantly it's just a broken X, which explains so much.

I have it a bit rougher. Both sons are color blind. Try having them find something red that's next to something green.

Unknown said...

maybe he did leave them in the front of an ice cream truck driven by a transvestite stripper but then matt the cat during one of his outside adventures saw them and thought 'hey those are P's pants and they're his fave! i'll take them back to him.'...but then that begs the question: what kind of transvestite stripper is alluring enough to ensnare both your husband and your cat? hmm...this should be investigated further ;)

Candyland said...

First actual laugh of the day. This sounds like my husband. What is it with them?!

Dawn Ius said...


Anonymous said...

Hm, this happens a lot in my house too. Except it's usually, "Where's my shirt? Did you take it? I can't find it." What shirt? I don't even wear your size! "Yeah, but y'all never put my clothes where they belong." Um, yes, "y'all" does cause "y'all" is "ME". I'M the one who does the laundry, so I know where everything belongs. Gr. Of course, the few times I don't do laundry, my clothes end up in everyone else's room but my own *sniff*

But it's quite possible that transvestite strippers are trying to take over the world one pair of pants at a time. I'm pretty sure I've seen them around my neighborhood.

Patrick Alan said...

Where are my favorite socks? Did you throw them out?

Linda G. said...

Ha! Pythagoras and the theater god must be long lost brothers. ;)

Jamie D. said...

LOL Poor Pythagoras.

At the moment, my dear hubby is in a frantic search for his mouth guard to keep from grinding his teeth. Hasn't used it in forever, and now he wants it. He's looked everywhere.

I think I know where it might be, actually...

Unknown said...

Too funny! My husband's favorite pair of pants is whichever is the clean pair. Makes finding them easy. :)


Cynthia, if you figure out what gene it is that causes the male species to lose things constantly, let me know where it is. I would like to remove it.

Adventures in Children's Publishing, my husband frequently consults me on whether things match. Then he ignores me and wears it anyway.

CKHB, I know there have been studies done showing the precise scientific reason men are unable to see things right in front of their faces. I don't remember what that reason is (which probably points to some flaw in female intellect, but I digress).

Claire Dawn, I double-dog-dare you to wander around the office saying "where are my pants?" for the rest of the week.

Jennifer X, this morning it was the shaving cream. Clearly he couldn't see it because it was HIDING behind the bottle of contact solution :)

Patty, you're right, the color blindness would make it extra difficult!

Karla, er, have you considered therapy?

Candyland, glad to supply you with a laugh! So do you help him find his pants, or just let him suffer?

Dawn, thanks! Not so sure the hubby will appreciate it when he checks this blog later!

danicaavet, oh don't even get me started on where my things end up if Pythagoras ever does laundry. I'm still looking for my T-shirts.

Patrick, you should summon your wife to comment today. I'm sure she'd have plenty to say about where your socks really are.

Linda G, if we ever get together, let's make sure TG and Pythagoras are not allowed to spend any time together looking for something important.

Jamie D, don't keep us in suspense, where's the mouth guard?!

Nicole, "clean" is not a requirement around here. "Not too dirty" is what we aim for.

Thanks for reading, guys!

Robin said...

Gotta love men. I don't know how they survive on their own...

Unknown said...

Tawna, considering I already admitted to be a stalker and you, yourself called me a psycho just last week, how is it that you didn't think to ask me about therapy sooner? :)

Liz Czukas said...

Tawna, you never fail to bring a smile to my face.

My husband's favorite pants are a particular shade of tan. None of the three other identical pairs, two of which are also shades of tan, live up to the wonder that is these pants. And god forbid the proper socks are in the laundry.

I don't know what gives men the idea that women are the ones who worry about clothing. Today I got dressed in less than five minutes.

Thanks for the grin.

- Liz

middle child said...

Men. You CAN'T live with them and you CAN'T live with them and so on and so on. Just one more kid to take care of but sometimes they are funny and do make us laugh.

Lucy Woodhull said...

My husband owns 45 identical white tee shirts from Banana Republic. He CAN tell them apart. Once I was helping him pack for a trip, and he said "get some white tee shirts," so I said "okay," and began pulling tees #1-7. Nooooooo! He proceeded to choose #s 2, 5, 7, 4, 18, and 34. How could I have not known that he wanted #s 2, 5, 7, 4, 18, and 34?? #6 is clearly inferior! BAD WIFE!

Anyhow, do they make a pill to fix this disease? For him or for me - I don’t care which.

Charmaine Clancy said...

well, as long as it was a transvestite and not just another woman. Funny :-)

Kristi said...

Hilarious!!! I can totally see this happening...just another reason they really do need us to survive! LOVE your blog!


Robin, too true! I will give him credit, though, his method for changing a tire is more effective than mine (i.e. standing on the side of the road and crying until someone does it for me).

Karla, I was afraid you might hurt me :)

Liz, we must be kindred spirits! I'm the fast dresser in our household, too, while my husband could spend hours ironing a single shirt.

middle child, you're exactly right -- there's seldom a dull moment with Pythagoras around!

Lucy, OK, seriously cracking up over your t-shirt woes!

Charmaine, now that you mention it, I'm not sure which would be worse -- the transvestite or the other woman. I was more hung up on the ice cream truck.

Kristi, thanks for the blog love! It is nice to feel needed sometimes, isn't it?

Thanks for reading, guys!

Jean Bauhaus said...

This post made me smile and shake my head because... husbands: what're you gonna do? If I had a piece of chocolate for every time I found something in a place where my husband said he already looked for it, I'd be the size of a house boat by now.

Amie Boudreau said...

and this post just so would prove to Crys that I am the 'guy' in our relationship... I am always the one losing stuff.. and most often it is my pants.