So it's a little bit windy in Wellington. Last night in my tent I felt sorry for my trusty little hobbit (that's actually what it's called, a Eureka Hobbit) as its fabric strained in the wind, and its valiant little spikes bravely kept me anchored to the ground. But today I came back to find that my tent was no longer there. With the resigned sigh of a seasoned traveller, I thought to myself, "Damn. My tent's gone." But then I saw it off to the side- the caretaker had kindly rescued it when the wind ripped it up. Perhaps indelicately it was weighed down by two massive rocks, but at least it wasn't going anywhere. The same could not be said, unfortunately, for my trusty Merrell sandals. They are gone. This marks three pairs of Merrell footwear that have met untimely dooms under my care- well, my hiking boots lasted nine years so that is hardly untimely, though I still get weepy thinking of the heartless way in which my girlfriend and gabrielle just threw them in a dumpster.
Sigh. I made much fun of gabrielle and Rae for the 38 and a half pairs of shoes they somehow each managed to stuff into their backpacks, but now that I only have my boots left I guess I feel a little envious and repentant.