RIP Beloved Sandals

On the way back from my Thursday night volleyball game, I was lucky enough to find one of the Adidas sandals I'd lost on the way home from my Tuesday night volleyball game.

I had put them on the car while I cleaned the sand off of my legs, and I forgot they were there until I was safely back at home a half hour later.  I knew they'd fallen off somewhere between Buckhead and Smyrna, but I didn't know where.

I was delighted to see one of my sandals resting against the median on Peachtree street last night. I did a u-turn and swooped up the shoe. My heart beat a bit faster, thinking that there might be a chance to find its pair and recover my lost footwear. Sadly, the other sandal never turned up. And one sandal--especially one that has been driven over several times--isn't worth much.

The worst part of this sad, sad story is that although I'd owned these sandals for almost five years and wore them non-stop every summer, they were still in great shape. They fit my feet perfectly, and I didn't plan to replace them for at least another year. Now, however, I'm going to have to break in a new pair. And there's no guarantee that the new ones will ever feel as good, or will last nearly as long. It just seems like such a waste.

Of course, it's probably not as big of a waste as writing an entire post talking about missing footwear, but you can see how much this has ripped at my sole. Er, I mean soul. I needed some closure.

Goodbye, size-twelve Adidas Santiossage sandals. You shall be missed.