Posted by Monty
Readers of this post, and anyone who knows her, are well aware of Carol's fondness for flip flops. She has at least fifteen pair on the boat. They overflow the shoe locker. She has even bought more while she has been here. (She has worn maybe three different pair.)
All of this is fine with me. The inventory is mostly confined to one locker and various corners of the boat, so they don't take up a lot of room (thank goodness she isn't into knee high boots), and they seem to make her happy.
But it's not good enough. I'M supposed to love them, too.
They never made sense to me. They are too hard to keep on your feet and always seem to get caught on things or come off at the worst times.
Nonetheless, I am trying.
Parts of the flip flop experience are nice. They are certainly easier to remove than shoes. They allow your feet to breathe. They are light, and once you get used to them, comfortable. Entire cultures have adopted them in one form or another, so there must be something redeeming about them. So I thought that, since I am changing so many other aspects of my life, now may be a good time to get into flops.
I am beginning to believe they just may be of the devil.
They suck you in with their charming ways and lie in wait until you (for example) transition from a patch of gravel to hard asphalt. Just as you have almost quit concentrating on keeping them on your feet, they flip up a small rock, which lands between your toes. With the main part of your brain preoccupied with other important matters, (like trying to remember you need to go by the clubhouse to get ice after you dispose of the garbage bag in your hand) your years of shoe reflexes kick in and, on the upswing, you shake your foot to dislodge the offensive stone. This results in the flop entirely removing itself from your foot, just before a hard heel plant on some gravel encrusted asphalt. Your leg buckles at the knee, causing injuries to muscles (that will only be revealed after the night's sleep) along with the more immediate bloody heel.
This is not an isolated incident. They have caught on lines, slipped on the grass, come off in the market, etc. Since I have been wearing them, I have noticed Carol having similar troubles, which she denies. I think the flops have her firmly under their spell. Evidently me as well, as I just realized I am writing this with flops on. So I guess I will try them a little longer.
I just hope they don't organize in the middle of the night and strangle us in our sleep.
All of this is fine with me. The inventory is mostly confined to one locker and various corners of the boat, so they don't take up a lot of room (thank goodness she isn't into knee high boots), and they seem to make her happy.
But it's not good enough. I'M supposed to love them, too.
They never made sense to me. They are too hard to keep on your feet and always seem to get caught on things or come off at the worst times.
Nonetheless, I am trying.
Parts of the flip flop experience are nice. They are certainly easier to remove than shoes. They allow your feet to breathe. They are light, and once you get used to them, comfortable. Entire cultures have adopted them in one form or another, so there must be something redeeming about them. So I thought that, since I am changing so many other aspects of my life, now may be a good time to get into flops.
I am beginning to believe they just may be of the devil.
They suck you in with their charming ways and lie in wait until you (for example) transition from a patch of gravel to hard asphalt. Just as you have almost quit concentrating on keeping them on your feet, they flip up a small rock, which lands between your toes. With the main part of your brain preoccupied with other important matters, (like trying to remember you need to go by the clubhouse to get ice after you dispose of the garbage bag in your hand) your years of shoe reflexes kick in and, on the upswing, you shake your foot to dislodge the offensive stone. This results in the flop entirely removing itself from your foot, just before a hard heel plant on some gravel encrusted asphalt. Your leg buckles at the knee, causing injuries to muscles (that will only be revealed after the night's sleep) along with the more immediate bloody heel.
This is not an isolated incident. They have caught on lines, slipped on the grass, come off in the market, etc. Since I have been wearing them, I have noticed Carol having similar troubles, which she denies. I think the flops have her firmly under their spell. Evidently me as well, as I just realized I am writing this with flops on. So I guess I will try them a little longer.
I just hope they don't organize in the middle of the night and strangle us in our sleep.