Last summer I bought a pair of black flip-flops.
A few days after my purchase, the bus stopped suddenly, and as I fell forward, the force of my right foot pulled the middle strap from its hole. I pushed it back in but had to walk very carefully to prevent the strap from pulling out again because the rubber sole had a tear where the knob punched through. The more I walked, the more frequently it fell apart until I had to limp with one foot bare home.
In my apartment, I tried to repair the tear by sticking a wad of duct tape into it. For a four block trip to the grocery store this seemed to work, but on the way back, as I ran across Colfax, flip-flop flew off.
Next I stretched a wide strip of tape over the opening in the outsole, thinking the knob would stick to it. Cautiously I crept toward the library, gaining confidence with each step, but soon enough, my confidence collapsed.
What about adding a staple? One from the top and one from the bottom, I snapped them through squishy shaft. For several weeks I went boldly forward, a little metal pinch in the ball of my toe an adaptable irritant, my only precaution not venturing beyond a mile from home.
One day, without warning, the grip slips, plug from socket.
Final plan, last chance: duct tape sandwich. Scrub sole clean to prepare for solid binding. Make slice in small piece of tape and press plug through, tacky surface down. Place two large pieces, tacky surface up, wide enough to cover downward facing piece and attach to surrounding sole. Add a couple staples for extra security.
Silver vinyl folding, bunching, sliding exposes flap like a bothersome long toenail that I clip. Months later, a clump of sand-straw-clay, the surface of a Saskatchewan sod hut, has formed a seemingly unbreakable glue.
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