Thursday, October 31, 2002

My pants are wet.

I got up this morning, took a shower, and went to get dressed. I couldn't find any pants. This wasn't an issue of not being able to find a certain color pair of pants to match a shirt; I couldn't find ANY pants. (Well, that's not exactly true. I still have the rack of size 30-32 slacks hanging in the closet which I'm saving for the day I stop eating Oreos and will be able to wear them again. But that's another story). There aren't many places for pants to hide. They are either in the closet, in the dresser, or thrown in a heap at the foot of the bed. Yet I couldn't find my pants. Did someone sneak into my home last night and steal my pants? And more importantly, why?

I then remembered that I did a large load of laundry last night but forgot to put the clothes in the dryer. I opened up the washing machine and found a giant wad of denim and cotton. I took a single pair of jeans and threw them in the dryer, maximum heat. I checked them every 5 minutes. Already running late, I tried to find that point where they would be dry enough to be tolerable without wasting too much time waiting for them.

Of course the Fundamental Law Of Laundry says that pants will always feel drier to your hand than they will to your pants. Sure enough, the pants were dry on the outside. Let's just leave it at that.

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