Lock the doors. This is the ultimate frustrating story about how you can’t find something that you know is really around here somewhere. I’m referring to Sam’s missing black stretchy pants, the ones he always wears to fall asleep in the family room when we’re watching an Errol Flynn movie. Two weeks ago he took them off to change clothes AND WE HAVEN’T SEEN THEM SINCE. Below is a copy of the ad that ran yesterday in the Dallas Morning News.
In our conversation with police detectives earlier today we admitted that a pair of renegade socks could have helped the pants escape because Sam’s sneaky socks have the run of the house. We constantly find them slinking down the hall, leaping out of the washing machine, creeping under the bed or bolting towards the back door. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if an enterprising pair masterminded the pants caper for a fee. We’ve looked EVERYWHERE.
By the way, if you’re wondering why I’m not asleep it’s because I tried and couldn’t. I flopped around in bed for a couple of hours and finally decided to just get up and do something productive. As soon as I finish this post I’ll reheat some leftover Mongolian chicken and watch Pollyanna. Shalom.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
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