I tend to run around barefoot. Whether I’m working in the garden, picking up around the house or office, or working — especially working — my feet are FREE! Now, outside, this addiction to bare toes sometimes winds up netting me a thorn or two, but I do it anyway except when shoveling in the garden or working on the barn. At the office, I sit cross-legged in the chair, and shoes and sitting like a toad on a mushroom just doesn’t work. Of course, invariably, someone walks in and insists on a face-to-face. So here I am, dressed in “comfort” clothes — nice comfort clothes so I can do lunch with a client at the high end of the dining spectrum — and in walks Mr. and Mrs. Suit, usually suburban, totally and completely at ease in antiseptic environments, and they want to meet ME.
Quick toes reach desperately to dig out my slouch-arounds tumbled way back under the desk. Slide them on as they walk through the door, barely getting them locked on my feet as I rise to meet and greet. Even then, though, I see the look cross their faces — she’s in casuals. Uh, yeah. I’m all for efficient, and comfort makes efficient better. Really.