APB: Missing Freelance Pants

For the first time ever, I accused the SO of thievery the other day.

"Did you hide my black pants," I said, hands on hips and a very stern look on my face. For more than a week now, my favorite yoga pants have been missing (not that I actually practice yoga in them -- they just happen to have the perfect amount of stretch). When they first went missing, I just assumed there was a load of laundry I had misplaced. Four days in, I began to suspect more sinister motives.

I thought that I might have broken the SO. Maybe a man can only see his partner in so many pairs of velour pants, sweats and clothes with drawstring waists before he has to take action. Before he has to destroy. 

"I did not get rid of your freelance pants," he said. "Freelance pants" is a term he stole from a local paper's cartoon to describe the lounge wear that became much more prominent once I started primarily working from home.

"Are you sure?" I said, also giving him the eye that says "we may joke a lot in this relationship, but I mean business about these pants."

"Yes, I'm sure," he said.

"And how do I know that?" Trust only goes so far in any relationship after all.

"Because if I did take and hide all of your sweats, you'd just start wearing mine."

That logic was solid. Taking my yoga pants would really just end up as a lose/lose situation for him.

"Fair enough," I said, and we moved on. (And I didn't even accuse him of a single other crime for the rest of the night.)

But if anyone sees a seemingly homeless pair of nearly-perfect cotton, black pants out there, please let me know. Mine are still on the loose, and the situation is growing dire.

I'm about two days away from posting flyers around the neighborhood. Ever since I went rogue from the corporate environment, zippers just don't work for me like they used to. 

*Photo approximates pants but should not be considered an accurate representation for searching purposes.