Socks

Friday, the heavily trafficked parts of our floors got a good, industrial type of cleaning. And despite the fact that the cleaning was timed just before two days where rain soaked the pecan tree pollen outside the back door (along with the two dogs laying in the wet pollen), they still look very nice.

I noticed that without any real discussion or plan, both of the adults here have made a footwear change in the house. I think it's more a mental sacrifice to the floor gods rather than anything that makes a marked difference, but it has happened.

While Mrs. theskinnyonbenny has started ditching her shoes at the door and going through the house barefoot, I've come to cover my bare feet with socks when entering the clean floor area.

I find wearing socks in the summer about as comfortable as having sex in a raincoat. I don't mean that as a euphemism for condom-wearing. It's really like a sweaty grind in a coat. Not a breathable one either -- more like a plastic poncho you buy at the union before a rainy LSU game.

Wearing socks in the house does make it easy to wipe up spilled or tracked in water.