Goodbye Old Friends

This is a sad post. I’m finally saying goodbye to my Nike Total 90 flops that I bought for [exorbitant] Rands, [several] years ago.
If each dog year is worth seven human years, then each flop year must be worth about twenty. And the fact that these guys made it well into triple figures is testament to the effort of the kids in the southeast Asian sweatshop in which they were created.

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They’ve been everywhere and done everything with me. But now they are on their last legs and cracks are beginning to appear. Literally.
On Monday, barefoot, I’m going to be scouring the sports shops of Cape Town searching for a replacement pair, with a tear in my eye.