Two days ago, I had a Jimmy Buffet-esqe moment when I literally blew out my flip flop. Aside from my having to walk barefoot back to my car, I was struck with a sense of loss. When I told my friend I had gotten the flops right before I went to Africa, he asked me how many continents had my shoes had traveled to?
They had traveled to Southern Africa, Australia/New Zealand, Mexico (twice), the Caribbean, and Thailand. 4 Continents.
I am sorry to see them go and I don't think there is any hope for repairs. Four years is a good run for a pair that was comfortable and cute.I may have to go to Margaritaville to console myself!
(featured parrot outside Margaritaville - Key West)
Glad I could be there to comfort you in your time of need. Those flip-flops will be missed, but I think you are taking the proper steps of grieving their loss. Keep talking about them, and keep their memory alive.ReplyDelete
. . . Wasting away again in Margaritaville. Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt. Some people claim that there's a wooommmaann to blame. Now I know (do do doo doo do) it's my own damn fault.