It’s officially Flip Flop Envy season here at Casa De Megan. I cannot wear flip flops, the traditional thing between the toes variety. (Or well, anything at all between my toes.) And I am bitterly jealous about this. I have tried to wean myself on to flip flops. I bought a pair of cute ones and brought them with me to work and changed into them when I got there. Oh my god the pain, it was unbelievable. And when it didn’t feel like some super sharp new material composite turned into toe torture device was stuck in there, like when I was sitting at my desk, the feeling was something more like “omigod what is this? this is not good. Take this right out of there. Now. I’m serious, this was not meant to be. No. Really I mean it. Get it out of there.” So I am relegated to the “slides” category and so many of them are not cute, and way more expensive. (Side note to the Gap: I know you’re evil but whatever, about two summers ago you carried these non-thong flip flop things and they were perfect and instantly comfortable and oh dear I would do anything if you would sell them again, pretty please. I lost one shoe of a pair last year and phoned every place I had been that day and desperately miss it and still think longingly of my missing anti-flip flop.) Flip flop wearers, cherish every flip flop wearing moment, you lucky little things.