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The Case of the Missing Jeans

Currently, I own four pairs of jeans. (These are proper full-length jeans, not counting cropped jeans and my beloved Loft denim skirt, which I wear ALL the time.) Each of them has stayed with me for a number of years, for one or more reasons. I decided to take two pairs of them to Europe: a pair of medium-dark Express trouser jeans I inherited from my sister, and a casual pair of Old Navy jeans I inherited from my mom. (My very favourite jeans, the $10 steal from Gap that I’ve had since I was 17, stayed at home because they’re getting just a little ratty. Hole above the knee, rips in a few places. I love them because they’re perfectly worn in, but they’re not exactly polished any more. And my wide-leg, dark-wash jeans with a subtle silver sparkle, which go better with heels than flats, also stayed home. They’re a little too polished for schlepping from bus to beach to hostel.)

I wore the Old Navy jeans on the plane, and for the first several days of the trip (come on, you know you do it too). I then washed them in the House 10 basement flat and switched to the trouser jeans for the next several days.

When we were packing to leave Oxford, gathering our things from the corners of Jacob and Lara’s living room, I couldn’t find the Old Navy jeans. I looked everywhere. I even called Jacque and had her hunt through House 10 for me. They were nowhere to be found, and so I departed for Spain with no knowledge of their whereabouts, making do with the trouser jeans and my black pants for the rest of the trip.

Several days after we got home, I finally pulled our jeans out of the laundry baskets where they’d been dumped on our arrival. I shook out several pairs of Jeremiah’s jeans, my trouser jeans…and, lo and behold, there were the Old Navy jeans. In my hands. In the pile with all the other jeans.

How did this happen?

I still don’t know. I’m not certain if the jeans wound up in Jeremiah’s suitcase during all the packing/repacking/schlepping/unpacking, or if they got shoved in a pocket I never looked in. Or if some denim fairy picked them up and magically deposited them in our laundry basket in Abilene. There’s no telling. (At the moment, I’m inclined to believe the latter.) All I know is, they made it home with me somehow – thank goodness, because they are perfect for football games, hiking and casual weekends, but they will stand up to a nice dinner out, when accessorized properly. And, of course, they will live to see many more days of travel.

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