I go barefoot, barefoot, barefoot!

If you know me well, then you know that I prefer to go barefoot, like Sally Henny-penny in Beatrix Potter's Tale of Mrs. Tiggy Winkle. (That's Sally herself, above.) The only time it really bothers me is when the floors are dirty. Then the little specks of sand and dirt stick to the soles of my feet and I feel like they should make clickety-clack sounds as I walk around the house. It irritates me like a tap that won't stop dripping. And it makes me feel all grotty, so I won't go to bed without a shower because I can't stand the thought of introducing all that crud between my sheets.

For the five years we lived in Colorado, we had wall-to-wall broadloom throughout most of the house. Oh, and I did complain about that carpeting: that it trapped dust, that it never looked clean for more than 48 hours after it had been steam-cleaned. (This was especially true in the hallways - it drove me batty! You can ask the kids about some of the more draconian measures I took in trying to keep that floor looking nice.)

And here we are in a house with absolutely no broadloom. Instead, we have glistening hardwood and ceramic tile. I had forgotten how balls of cat hair accumulated in corners. I had forgotten just how much dirt our family brings into the house in an average week. (Carpet grabs that dirt, hence the perpetually nasty-looking smudges in our back hallway at the old house.)

Sigh. I guess there's no perfect solution for those of us who prefer to go "barefoot, barefoot, barefoot." But given my druthers, I'll stick with the solid-surface floors. [Good thing, isn't it, since that's what we've got!] They're easier and less expensive to clean, and I really rather enjoy walking around the house after I've done my white tornado of sweeping and mopping and having nothing stick to my feet. It's as satisfying as a crisply ironed shirt.

See? Happy feet! (Please ignore the need for a new pedicure.)