I was all set to go to the monthly flea market in Namesti Miru, the first after a long winter break, to buy a new pair of slippers. Seems that sliding around on our apartment hardwoods makes the bottoms melt like butter.
This Czech grandmother knits them by hand, nice and soft, multicolorful, and comfortable. But then a little foxy whispered into my ear, and what she told me shocked me out of my back-up slippers: it turns out that the old bitch has doubled her prices.
Asia can teach me how to knit in a Gdynia Minute, and then I can make my own damned slippers.