I am astounded at how much I missed my house shoes this week. I wanted to pack them and take them to Florida, but decided to be strong and figured some time apart would do us both good. We’ve been running errands and messing with car salesmen for the last few days so I actually had to get dressed and put on “real” shoes. There wasn’t an hour that my house shoes didn’t cross my mind. I thought about their cozy sheepskin insulating warmth and their protective non-slip outsoles. Even as I slept, I dreamed of those lightweight imitation suede uppers. Nobody should have to endure this kind of pain. I now have tasted how it must have felt when Juliet awoke to find Romeo dead from a poison overdose. Thankfully, I had planned ahead and locked up all the daggers in the house before my self-imposed house shoe separation started. I knew it would be a difficult journey. This morning, however, I couldn’t bring myself to go one more day without wearing my house shoes. Blissful is the only word that describes how I felt walking toward them. Putting them back on my feet brought tears of joy to my eyes. It felt like I was gliding on two freshly spun warm servings of cotton candy…only without that sticky feeling you usually get from that crap. This I now know - I will never foresake my house shoes again.