The Mystery Pants

The cleaners come every day to our apartment in Nairobi. I try to lock up what's semi valuable but as soon as I returned from Mombasa, the first thing I did was check my stuff just to make sure nothing was taken. Nothing was, and in fact, I was under the impression that we have the only cleaning lady in town who actually GIVES us things. Sitting on my desk table was a pair of pants, neatly folded. Military green in colour. I've never seen them before in my life. I'm not really sure what to do with them. So I just leave them there.

A day later, I'm relaying the story of the odd mystery pant over the phone to Nicole in Mombasa. After I finish telling her that I'm sure they're not mine because they're "much larger than what I would wear", (really they weren't that big, I was just embellishing for the extra laugh, as I tend to do) she says to me: "ummmm, what's the brand on the label?"

Me: "Miss Chievous" (clever name really).

I don't really see where this is going at first.

Her: "Is there a flower print on the inside of the pants?"

Me: "Yes, yes there is"

How did she know that? That's pretty impressive.

Nicole: "Those are MY pants!"

Ohhhhhh! It clicked. I'd forgotten the Mombasa crew spent the night at our apartment before we caught our plane last week. See...THIS IS WHY YOU DON'T EMBELLISH! And as a word of warning, don't bother trying to backpeddle once someone thinks you just implied they are "larger". But she isn't! She's like the same size as me, which is the funny part. Never mind, I'm just digging a hole. I have to say that I'm more disappointed that our cleaning lady isn't so giving after all. When I lifted the pants, there was a note there from her, offering to do my laundry every week. For 800 shillings (about $15), that is. Apparently, her price goes up with inflation because according to last year's journalists, she only charged them $5. I really need to learn to haggle.