I had kind of a strange experience this weekend.
Picture it, Saturday morning.
I woke up, well-rested and comfy, rubbing my feet together lightly. God, the bed felt good. My mom had gotten me a set of 600-count sheets that she ran into at a clearance, and not only were the sheets incredibly soft, they’re gorgeous, too. I was soooo comfortable, and could feel the sheet all over my hips and legs. But, wait a minute, I shouldn’t be able to feel it all over my hips and legs because I know I had gone to sleep with a pair of flannel pants on. I was slowly drifting towards wakefulness when this occurred to me. My eyes snapped open, and I lay there for a minute, completely confused. I lifted the covers, looked down. Yep, no pants. I looked next to the bed. No pants there. Hmmm… I hopped out of bed and looked next to my husband’s side of the bed. Nope. Completely pants-free. Where the hell were my pants??
Surely I hadn’t gotten up and tossed them somewhere along the hall or in the bathroom? I walked around for a few minutes, T-shirt pulled down over my butt, searching and searching for pants. Still nothing. I went back into the bedroom and there, tucked under my pillow was some light blue material that hadn’t been there when I went to sleep. My pants! Oh, happy day! I pulled them on, then walked into the kitchen and made coffee, puzzling over how my pants had gotten from my butt to under my pillow. The mystery may never be solved, though an educated guess would suggest that I probably got hot and yanked them off at some point. But I’ve never put them under my pillow. Maybe I was storing pants for the winter.