These pants truly do belong upstairs
This morning I almost choked on a piece of toast when, right before my very eyes, Domino emerged from the basement dragging a dirty pair of Owen's work pants with him. He dragged them into the living room and then abandoned them there, his work done.

I shared this with my husband, and he informed me that last night before he came to bed, he found our fleece throw from the basement in the middle of the kitchen floor.

I'm beginning to think that Dom is like Noah, and he is preparing for a Great Flood and wants to make sure that the valuable items, namely, the Christmas stockings, three garden gloves, an Elvis wig, a sponge, a bag of random washers and bolts from Lowe's, the pants and the throw, survive the high waters.

God help us if he starts bringing up underwear.