Albert, our next door neighbor, enjoys watching out for us. Like a doting uncle, he gives us advice, checks on us when he thinks we’ve been away from the house too long, and discretely leaves gifts whenever he senses a need. Also, he refuses to eat our cooking because “no one under 40 can cook.” (Though he admits he might give in to our offers of food before July.)
We invite neighbors to our house on Saturdays for supper. Albert appeared this past weekend, for the first time in a long time, and helped grill bratwurst for us and steak for himself.
In the meantime, I played with Taliah, the four-year-old daughter of another good neighbor. Taliah, full of curiosity, told me she wanted to check on the grill. Grabbing my jacket, we went onto the porch where Camrin, my housemate; Albert; and Taniah, Taliah’s older sister, watched the grill.
Taliah and I stepped out on the porch. Right away, Albert noticed my socked feet. “Where are your shoes, girl?”
I explained that they were in my room, and I didn’t feel like going to get them.
“Don’t you have any house shoes?” he asked, surprised and with a kids-these-days smirk. I responded with a no, after asking him what house shoes were. By the way, they’re slippers.
Later, on Sunday afternoon, Hilary and I came back from our one-on-one to fluffy Wal-mart slippers on our living room floor. Albert had sneakily asked Camrin to find our shoe sizes. Then, without being asked, he bought everyone all six of us house shoes.
Mine have a cheetah print pattern. Which makes me very happy.
1:05 pm
Russians also wear house shoes, called “tapochki,” or “tapki” for short. It’s unthinkable to wear street shoes in the house, and if you go to visit others, they lend you their tapochki. I’m glad you have a pair!