That’s a question I haven’t asked since, oh, college. (Hey. Don’t judge.)

I’ve been wandering around the house for a week now, asking if any of my kids have seen a favorite pair of black pants. They haven’t. Nor did Husband take them with him when he packed for his research cruise. I’ve been in contact with him; he denies having them, though he hasn’t gone out of his way to search his luggage either. The pants are similar in fabric, if not size, to one of his pairs of trousers, but not the sort of garment one takes when one is prepping to live on a manly boat with (mostly) other manly men. Jeans, baby, that’s what they wear. The more stained with fish guts the better. Yeah, doing *his* laundry upon return will be a great joy.

Anyway, back to my problem of not finding my pants. Last I saw them, they were hanging in the laundry area before I headed out on a short trip last weekend. I made sure they were clean so I’d have them for work on Monday morning, in case I didn’t have the energy to do laundry when I returned. (As it turns out, I couldn’t do laundry Sunday even if I wanted to–our pipes had frozen. Oh, the joys of living in the Frozen North.) But my pants were not where I thought I’d left them. Nor were they hanging in my closet or in the dirty clothes pile. Or in the kids’ rooms.

So where did they go?

I offered the kids cold, hard cash if they found the pants while cleaning their rooms. No such luck. Though they asked for some sort of percentage for cleaning their rooms. No such luck there, either. Sorry, kids.

Driving in to work last week, me fuming about the pants, we passed a dog trotting along the road. The dog was mostly black with white socks.

DD#1: “That dog looks like he’s wearing pants.”

DD#2: “Maybe they’re mom’s.”

Funny, kid, real funny.

Later, at home….

Me (still ranting): “It’s not like they got up and walked away!”

DD#1: “Well, they *do* have legs.”

Har-dee-har-har. I have birthed comedians.

Husband suggested I just break down and buy a new pair. I was resistant, but this morning I put in an order for new pants, along with some shorts, a skort, and some t-shirts for our summer vacation in June. I know that as soon as I tear off the tags and wear the new pair, I will find the old ones.

Then I’ll have two pairs to lose.

ETA: Original pants were found in youngest daughter’s drawer. How they got there, who knows. But I know that dog doesn’t have them.