Gardening Footwear

There's nothing that compares to the relationship you have with a sibling. I love my sister more than it could possibly be said, how else are you to feel about someone who puts up with your insanity (and I, hers)?  This is of course before a few days ago.

Now, I had always considered her to be slipping just a little bit. Who moves from NY to NC, I mean, of course, owning your own home might seem better than sending to a landlord, a check every month or finding a place grander than a hovel for less than 500k, but really. Have you not met a New Yorker? We're delightful. An absolute treat. But being the ever loving and supportive brother I am, I chalked up her geographic silliness as a passing phase and let her go on her southern adventure. (We won't talk about how approaching 3 years later she's married, a home owner and about to birth her first baby, cause you know, that would make it seems as if I might be wrong about NY or NC. And that's just not a possibility I'd like to entertain. I swear she inflates the husband and house and pregnant belly whenever she needs to show her idealized American dream and really she lives in a double wide with a man name Cletus and his mother, Franny.)

Having said that she pushed me too far and crossed the line in expecting me to accept her lifestyle. After days spent in the garden, destroying, one by one all my converse, giving up and switching to flip flops (oh god I can even describe the amount of dirt left in the shower) and finally going with an old pair of top siders. She suggested I buy a pair of crocs, for the garden. I know. If I hadn't saved a screen capture of the text I wouldn't believe it either:

 Crocs just remind me of the sort of utilitarian footwear you'd want to wear while hosing off corpses in a morgue, except not, because you wouldn't want body water sweep through the holes. In fact, I now know of a fate worst than death, being dead, naked and hosed down by a schmo wearing crocs. Nothing with that much plastic should find a place on your body, plastic doesn't breathe! Gah. I can't even. I know there are converts and ardent followers of Crocs, but I think they're a mark of the beast and their inventor, the Antichrist.

All I can say is she too will be added to my list of people to pray for, her Cletus and Fanny, especially Fanny, with her speech impediment. She tried so hard.