For some reason this summer I've gone barefoot a lot. Indoors and out. Which has profited me, as tonight I managed to shatter the glass cover of a casserole dish and spray shards all over the kitchen floor. I've swept four times and I still keep finding bits with my tootsies. Fortunately, the calluses are so thick I'm noticing the bits by pressure, not actual damage.
But it does make me think about hobbit feet -- I mean, even if they've been toughened by years of no shoes, they must be sensitive to the different textures beneath them. And tough soles or no, it must still hurt to stub one of those toes...
*wanders off to do more cleaning*
Thought for the day. When you're drinking your pepsi out of a tupperware square, it's time to do the dishes.
ETA: A classic comment from my mom:
I'm forwarding this reply to a couple of relatives ... because the the joy of not having to write things twice is the whole reason for the invention of e-mail.