When you laugh, the whole world laughs with you, when you cry, you cry alone . . .

I lost my favorite pajama pants in Lithuania.

When I got back to Dan and Courtney's apartment in Riga Sunday night and started to get ready to retire on Big Brown, my sofa home away from home, I couldn't find my flannel orange plaid pajama pants, my favorites. Panicked, I turned my suitcase inside out, but no pajama pants. Dan was good enough to loan me some sweats for the evening, but it just wasn't the same.

So when I got back to the US, I sent out a mass international email alert about losing my favorite pajama pants in Lithuania.

If you want to bring out the comedian in anyone in the world, just tell them you lost your favorite pajama pants in Lithuania.

Sure, laugh at me. Make snide comments about my fashion sense, sexual innuendos about my misfortune. I can assure you there was no good fortune involved in the loss, no matter what your gutter dwelling minds may think. But if it makes you smile, I suppose that is okay.

So now I am reduced to blogging in my boxers and a sweatshirt. Consider that visual image as payback for your laughter.

I maintain hope that the lost pj's will be located. The preacher of the Birzai United Methodist Church has been told that I lost my pajama pants at his church. I'm sure he is still laughing.

It is getting late, and although my legs do not yet feel like they have returned home without the comfortable familiarity of the orange plaid flannel softness, I must try to rest.

To sleep, perchance to dream . . . of orange plaid flannel goodness.

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