She who must be obeyed is always on the lookout for ways to improve my sartorial elegance. Personally I would mark myself a full ten (out of a hundred), but she is not so impressed.
Some time ago she decided my scruffy flip-flops could be improved by the acquisition of a pair of Birkenstock sandals, and she told me so.
You need a pair of Birkenstock sandals.
Why?
Because your current sandals are cheap rubbish that are falling to pieces.
So?
So, you need some new sandals.
Birkenstock are expensive.
I will ask Olaf to bring you some from Germany when he visits. They will be cheaper there.
They won’t fit.
They will.
They won’t be comfortable.
They will. I won’t like them. You will.
And so on. I am an obstreperous, grumpy old bugger when I want to be, which is most of the time; and no way was I going to be forced into wearings some footwear that I hadn’t personally sanctioned.
She who must be obeyed went ahead anyway, as I knew she would, and Olaf arrived with a pair of Birkenstock sandals for me.
As I predicted, they didn’t fit. Actually they were only slightly big and not really a problem; but I made sure I made this into a massive issue. And of course they were expensive, at least I assume they were. Olaf being the lovely chap that he is, refused to accept any money for them; even after I had asked him twice, and one of those times he was actually in the room.
As he had gone to all the trouble to bring them for me, I had to pretend to like them. And so for the last three years or so I have worn them every day. They have been immersed in sand, sea, mud and sewage and always come up smiling after a run under the tap. They are the most comfortable footwear I have ever owned and I can’t imagine wearing anything else.
Eventually, I had to admit to my wife they were a good idea (she wasn’t in the room at the time); but I was sure there was some sort of catch to their acquisition. Yesterday. the foolishness of her decision was made clear, a strap on one of the sandals broke. Three years of continual use, frequent abuse, and absolutely no maintenance; and a strap breaks; what happened to the fabled German quality?
Fortunately, it is the middle of three straps that has broken, so I can continue to wear them while I source a replacement. Just don’t tell my wife you saw me going into a Birkenstock shop.
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