The weather outside is frightful.
But not as scary, it turns out, as that exposed hole in our sock. Or our mismatched socks. Or calluses, or toenails gravely in need of a pedi.
It's that time of year for shoe removal requests at the doors of relatives and friends. While happy to see us, many hosts are not joyful about the arrival of slush or salt on their wood floors and carpets.
Of course we de-shoe, if asked. Being Minnesotans, by birth or decades of living here, we're not about to create conflict.
But my highly unscientific poll reveals that we're deeply divided on this issue — to a degree not seen since I asked whether Christmas gifts should be opened on the eve or the day. (Oh, my, do we have opinions on that.)
The shoe topic has been on my mind since an elegant soiree last weekend where the gracious hosts welcomed us without a moment's glance down at the floor or my feet. No shoe bins or slipper socks anywhere.
"You mean," I thought, "I get to keep my shoes on?"
Oh, holy night.