My son loves to fish. Loves, loves, loves to fish. If I gave him the option of having a roof over his head or fishing, it’s pretty much time to tell him goodbye.
He fishes in the morning. He fishes in the afternoon. On plenty of occasions I have called him and said, “Dude, it’s dark. How are you still fishing.”
I fear the end is nigh for a pair of dear friends.
After years of dedicated service, I am afraid my trusted slippers may need to be retired.
They have been faithful companions for almost 15 years. They have slept patiently by my bed each night during that tenure. They have faithfully protected my toes from stubbings during a late night bathroom break or snack. They have kept my feet warm every morning as I got ready for work, waiting until the last minute until I go Mr. Rogers and switch out my footwear. And they have dispatched countless cockroaches that have dared enter my house.