The Actual Traveling Of The Traveling Pants

(My fiancé and I live several hours apart, so when we see each other the days tend to begin with ‘marathon sessions.’ We have finally come up for air and decide we need food.)

Me: “I’m too tired now to cook.”

Fiancé: “Well, I don’t want to leave the house.”

Me: “Pizza?”

Fiancé: “Pizza works. I’ll pay.”

Me: “Works for me. I’ll get tip. Have you seen my phone anywhere?”

Fiancé: “Not for a while.”

Me: “Well, then. Where’s your phone?”

Fiancé: “In my pants.”

Me: “Okay… Where are your pants?”

Fiancé: “Now, those I haven’t seen for a few hours either…”