when i have lost socks in the process of washing clothes, there is always the moment of sadness, regret, possibly a flicker of, ¨i remember¨ sniff ¨the last time i wore you¨ sniff ¨mr sock,¨ and then, because deep down (ok, this is clearly on the surface as anyone who has ever seen a room i have occupied will know) i am a packrat, i put the single sock back in the drawer with his friends and light a candle in hopes of one day finding his lost brother. sometimes, remember dreams do come true, i will find said stray sock in the leg of a pair of pants or the arm of a shirt that i washed him with; however, all too often my drawer just fills up with more unmatched pairs of socks until the day i have no more clean socks and begin wearing unmatchables. at one point i think this was in fashion. not sure when that was, but i have faith that one day it will again be in vogue, thus i rarely throw socks, whether bachelors or not, away.

i am often saddened by the loss of articles of clothing, mainly bc i do not buy that many and thus remember most of the ones i have. there are two long sleeve shirts i am thinking of that i lost in flag. one, a black long sleeve capilene shirt that i wore snowboarding (and on mardi gras almost two years ago when i had the bright idea to stuff two balloons under my shirt and, well, i will let you imagine how that went. interestingly, though i had long hair at the time, i was still denied access to the ladies room at a local watering hole in flag and was informed in no uncertain terms, that if i went in, i would be sure not ever to be allowed to enter the bar, much less one of its bathrooms, again. killjoys.) and another dark grey with orange block letters of a snowboarding company, nixon, that i bought in san francisco. i look for long sleeve t-shirts like some people look for new cars. i shop around, bide my time, complain about how overpriced they are, then after a few months, find one i like and, possibly, buy it. hence, replacing one of these bad boys isn´t as simple as heading to the store to get more milk.

why i am regaling you all with a strange story about my somewhat odd clothing habits? the easiest answer is that i am miffed. i washed my clothes this weekend and hung them up to dry just outside my apt. the neighbors, the lone set who do not also work at the university, had left to dry the funky ropa of their rugrats for numerous days, i so i pushed some of the tot-tees out of the way to place my clothes on the line.

well, when the neighbors returned and plucked from the line their own set of clothes, they took a pair of my pants with them. the next day, after i had cleared all of my clothes, i found a pair (keep in mind i have only four pair with me down here) of khaki pants hanging, looking lonely all by themselves, on the line. pirates! they had looted my clothes repetoir.

as you might imagine, i immediately went inside and rooted through my repertoire of other clothes to see what might be amiss. shock. horror. two t-shirts were missing.

take a breath with me here. i was definitely nonplussed to encounter such a loss. i have five t-shirts with me in mexico. this does not jut deplete my supply it nearly wipes it out.

alas, the brigands have absonded with half my wardrobe! and when i say they took off, i mean there is no sign of them. their drapes are shut, their rats have ceased screaming day and night and all that remains, like dirty plates after thanksgiving, are their plastic clothes pins on the line demarcating the last-known wherabouts of 2/5 of my non-school attire.

although i could not hope to match the girth of the male neighbor, i certainly have a good foot or more in height on him, thus my shirts would be the kind of shress (shirt-dress) that some females like to wear. all he needs is a belt and some daisy dukes to join the other cross-dressing, oh wait, i should bite my tongue on that one (assuming tron reads this and remembers the prom for adults we attended in flag in the summer of 04). nevertheless, it is clear that the clothes are not for him.

i am sad. had i plethora of clothes to lounge around in, this would only be a minor setback. as i am leaving town tomorrow (stina, we will have so much at the beach!), this presents more than a slight problem.

life will go on, but ames, you must know, they have taken my ¨dawgs¨shirt hostage. as no ransom note has emerged i fear the worst (greasy man has worn the shirt and spilled all manner of food all over it or one of his offspring has soiled it with who-knows-what). join me in the hopes that my return from vacation will also mark the return of my pilfered camisetas.

pinche vecinos. (dont look up the first word, it is bad, but vecinos means neighbors)