there’s a chair in our basement laundry room where i pile up towels for the wash. once the pile is significant enough, i do an extra load that weekend just of towels.
for a long time now – a very long time – i’ve noticed a pair of jeans nested below that pile. i finally picked it off the chair and asked doug, “did you want me to wash these jeans or what?”
he looked at me puzzled and replied, “those aren’t mine – they’re yours!”
“what? i’ve never had a pair of jeans like that before! they’ve got to be yours.”
“look – [takes them and holds it up to him so that the bottom is flushed against his feet] – how can they be mine? the waist is all the way up to my chest!”
“well then how can they be mine??? i’m the same height as you!”
by this point, we were both laughing so hard that tears were coming out of our eyes and i almost had to sit down from my stomach muscles siezing up.
anyway – so the jeans remain there, folded and without an owner. honestly, i am racking my brain on this one – for the life of me, i can not figure out where those jeans came from.