I'm typing this while at the dining room table. I have my bare feet propped up on the chair across from me. My feet are always cold ("You mean, they are ice bricks," says the husband). I don't like being cold so I tend to wear thick slipper socks or slippers around the house. At the office, I aim my space heater directly at me feet.
We've entered summer weather which means these are the few months of the year I happily plod about barefoot. In high school, I took modern dance classes. We wore half-sole sandals which let your foot move freely. You could better grip with your toes or point your foot. I remember these classes fondly. I take joy in walking around barefoot and love doing the occasional turn or foot swoosh as I walk around our home.
While I can't readily do this in the city, I love walking around barefoot outside. My in-laws' yard has the softest grass that tickles the feet instead of scratching. I remember tip toeing across the hot pool deck at my grandparents' house before diving in to the cool water. As a kid, when we lived in Florida, I would dash across our driveway to grab the mail or meet up with a friend. My feet always developed calluses as the long summer progressed.
I equate being barefoot with happy childhood memories, and I'm glad these moments come back to me now that I'm pushing 40.
Plus, I always recommend being barefoot when you paint. That way you know if you step in wet paint before you track it around.
Do you like being barefoot?