I like flip-flops.
I buy one pair of black flip-flops at Old Navy for $3.50 every year around April, and pretty much wear them every day in one way or another.
Keep your $600 Manolo Blahniks. I’ll wear my flip- flops with everything from evening gowns to PJs. And I rock ’em.
And they cost less than a tall Starbucks latte.
Inside, I wear them all the time because I tend to get too warm. Being a hardy New Englander, outside, I’ll sport them until mid-November, until I can no longer stand ice-cold toes. Then I transition into shoes and socks, until snow requires me to wear full-fledged, non-sexy, rubber soled, tall boots. This generally happens at some point in mid to late December. I expect to have to deal with this until I buy my next pair.
I was SUPPOSED to be able to wear my flip-flops outside for at least another two weeks. But instead, it’s still October, and there will be no transition; when I step outside tomorrow, I will need to be sporting those ugly boots.
This isn’t right.
This isn’t some weird coincidence. This isn’t global warming. No, I’ll tell you what this is.
It’s some demented force at work messin’ with us. This is some greater power is up somewhere, saying in the finest Dave Chappelle impersonation voice, “TRICK OR TREAT, BITCHES!”
Happy Halloween, fellow New Englanders. Light the Jack-O-Lanterns because the lights are gonna go out any minute now. Don’t worry, Public Service of New Hampshire will get power restored to your area in the next week or two.
But I still wouldn’t trade it for living in the much-warmer South. No offense to “y’all,” but there are weird things and people there. Like Dolly Parton. And those Waffle Houses. And all of Alabama.