The Old Coot walks in style

I broke in a new pair of sandals the other day. Without socks! Young guys often wear socks with sandals. Black crew socks. It used to be the old fogies who did that – now, it’s sort of Nuevo chic. But old guys don’t want to look like those old fogies we laughed at when we were the young guys. So we don’t wear the black socks. Like that’s going to fool anyone.  

Anyhow, I had these new sandals on my bare feet, all day – walking around, riding my bike, and mowing the lawn. I ended up with blisters! – “Great!” I said to myself. Now I have something to complain about on Tuesday, complaint day for the old guys I hang around with. We got tired of listening to each other’s bellyaching every day, so we restrict it to one day a week. Sometimes on the off days, we have nothing to talk about. 

Those sandal blisters would be perfect for my turn. It’s a double complaint. First, I can discuss the issue of frailty, how my whole darn body is falling apart. It isn’t quite there yet, but it sure feels that way sometimes. The blisters will allow me to complain about the thin skin, something that happens to you as you age. An innocent bump into a sharp edge gets us scampering for a tissue to blot up the blood and a band-aid to stop the flow. 

Then, I could shift my complaint to the sandals. “They don’t make them like they used to,” sort of thing, and then move on to other poorly made things. Grocery bags, for instance, that I have to purchase when I forget to bring my own (which is usually the case). If you grab one of today’s bags by the top edge, to heft it up so you can get your hand under the bottom, the chances are pretty good that it will tear open, causing contents to spill all over the checkout lane. I’ve been that guy, holding up the line. It isn’t fun! Anyhow, those blisters from my new sandals, made my day. 

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