It was seven years ago and around this time of year. I was at home off work on medical leave thoroughly enjoying my new baby girl as my husband worked to help "make ends meet" at the Taco Bueno about half a mile from our apartment near the busy street of Peoria in Tulsa. As it was getting dark I decided to go to the laundry room to wash a load of dirty clothes. The load contained one real important ingredient. It was my husband's black dress pants he wore to work. He only had one pair and we couldn't afford $20 for an extra pair. I started the washer and then left as I had always done.

After a while I returned to put the load in the dryer. When I entered the tiny room a young 20ish woman was there doing her laundry. The air in the room had a nose burning twang of marijuana smell. I mostly ignored it and focused on my clothes. I looked in the washer and thought it odd that my clothes weren't tightly slung against the sides as they should've been. I quickly realized someone had been looking through them. The woman in the room had a reputation for stealing clothes. My friend and nextdoor neighbor, Donna, had warned me about her. She stole a pair of Donna's pants. Her and Donna were around the same size in women's bigger clothes.

Thoughts were racing through my mind, "I've got to confront this woman. My husband has got to have his pants!" So as I put the clothes in the dryer I began to casually talk. I mentioned that someone had been looking through my washer. She didn't say anything. I then mentioned how my Momma taught me the ten commandments and that stealing is wrong. She kind of nodded. I told her of how my husband would need his pants for work tomorrow. She listened but no reply. Then, although shaky, I straightly confronted her. She denied. I had no intention of leaving without my husband's pants. I looked in her dryer. They're they were tumbling around with some of my other clothes mixed in with still others I had never seen before. This was making me even more angry. Then I walked outside the door. She followed me out. I figured if I stayed there long enough Danny would come to check on me. Then she started yelling in my face with her marijuana laden breath. She told me she had intentions of fighting me as she yelled colorful four letter words at me. I looked in her face not really scared because the situation was so ridiculous. This woman who was two to three times my size was going to beat me up because I knew she had obviously stole my clothes. There was no way I would retaliate to her idiocy. Finally, my husband came and I told him what was going on and he talked with her while I left. I went to our neighbor who lived below us and he called the police. Then my husband and the woman walked up to her mother's apartment where she lived with my clothes and "my husband's pants" still in her possession. When the police arrived we told them the situation. Although I was frustrated, the police officer said the only way I could get my clothes back were to describe each item and then she would pull them from her basket! As I described my clothes I kept wondering what this large woman was going to do with my clothes. They didn't fit her. Were they going to be an incentive to lose a 100 some-odd pounds! or maybe she was gathering a variety of clothes from many different tenants so she could have a big garage sale. I didn't know so I just tried my best to remember and as thoroughly as possible describe my garments. All the while, her mother was looking really stupid as she defended her daughter and denied that she had done anything wrong. In the end, I know I lost my favorite pair of pajamas and a pair of socks.

As soon I got home that night I wrote down all the details of what had happened and Danny took it to the landlord. The Landlord told the mother and her daughter they were terminated from living there. Since this made them angry they tried to get us in trouble. They called the child abuse/neglect hotline on us falsely saying we had harmed our child. The social worker came to my apartment and I had to undress my baby in front of her and she asked my children questions.

I don't like to end my blogs negatively but such instances made me hate apartment living and I was so glad when I moved into a mobile home with my own washing machine and dryer. Since we've lived here we haven't had the opportunity to become aquainted with anyone quite as colorful as the woman who stole my husband's only pair of work pants!