Has anyone seen my pants?

You don't know the meaning of fear until you wake up in the morning realizing that at some point in the night before, you have lost your pajama pants.

I have always had a problem with sleep walking, sleep talking - pretty much sleep-everything more exciting than what I do when I am awake. Mom remembers a time that when I sleep-cooked ramen noodles in the middle of the night. How does she know it was me? I cleaned the pot. I also sleep-ate the noodles, which was pretty impressive because it was my little brother who liked to eat them - not me.

I'm not saying that I am a heavy sleeper, either. I am notoriously easy to wake up. I heard a mousetrap go off in the middle of the night under the house, and I couldn't sleep thinking about the rat in the trap. I cannot sleep through thunderstorms, and when my cat goes to do his business in the middle of the night, I wake up. In fact, before the dog came around, the cat made a pretty handy security system; any time someone or something was in the back yard, he would paw the back window making a swishing noise. Once, in the middle of the night, this happened, and I got up to look out the back window to see this blinding white light moving across my back yard and almost screamed, until I realized what it was: my neighbors at the time had a cat with an inner ear problem (it was deaf and had a bad sense of balance,) so it would go to the wrong house and meow really loud until they retrieved the cat. Since a storm had blown down half a tree and, consequently, part of the fence, the cat was at our back door. The white specter was not a ghost as I had imagined it, but was my neighbor, butt naked, walking across my yard getting his cat, and I did not have my glasses on. I was not woken by the cat, mainly because I had gotten used to that noise, but I digress.

So, last night I went to bed thinking that the pants to the pajamas I was wearing were shorter than I remembered, so I know I was wearing them. Then, this morning I realized that I was no longer wearing pants. It's also laundry day, so I was wearing the special-occasion undies that, if you're married, you know what I mean.

Probably more frightening is that I have been looking for them all morning and still can't find them. Hubby says that I didn't wear them after all since there are no other signs that anything unusual happened in the house, but because I KNOW I had them on and they are not in the dresser, the fact that nothing in the house is amiss only makes me more concerned.

(If you see a cat with an inner ear problem dragging them somewhere, let me know.)