Wonder what I could get for a pair of shoes

My mom came over today to do some laundry while we were at work and school. I have no problem with that because there were a few loads in the laundry room I needed finished and I knew she’d whip those out for me. Of course, she folded my towels wrong, but that’s not her fault. I’m a bit insane about the towels and sheets. A person’s linen closet should have standards. Mine involves origami.

Anyway, later this afternoon she called me.

“Hey, I left some black pants at your house.”

“OK.”

“They’re good pants,” she added.

I knitted my brows. “OK.”

“I’m going to want them back.”

Is she never coming back to my house?  Is she going on the lam or something? Wait a minute. Is my mom breaking up with me?

“What the hell do you think I’m going to do with them?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I just know that you really hate your job.”

I’m soooo not following. Did I miss a rather important part of this conversation? “Do you think there’s a big black market out there for other people’s pants?”

“I don’t know. I’m just saying.”

“I’m sorry, you’re going to have to give me all the instructions if you want me to pull off conspiracy of yours.”

When I got home I immediately looked for these pants. Surely, they were made with gold spun by Rumpelstiltskin himself. Turns out they were just boring old pants. I do plan to return them right away.

There was, however, a purple shirt she never mentioned missing which will fetch a pretty price with that used shirt guy in the alley.