Bohemian

I didn't wear shoes tonight.

Some time fairly early in the night I decided that I just didn't feel like wearing shoes, so I took mine off. I would slip them back on to attend to any guest matters, but by and large I went barefoot all night. I feel as though I've either crossed or am about to cross some kind of line. I enjoyed this too much. Being barefoot is my preference, but it's not a huge deal. In this case however it comes with the perverse joy of knowing that everyone else has to wear shoes. When T comes in later he'll be wearing shoes. He even has to wear a homestead shirt. They never ordered me a homestead shirt, so I'm free from that responsibility as well. He has to be prim and clean, but I don't have to play by their rules. I'm the night man, a massive black clad figure wandering the grounds and playing obscure music at all hours of the night. Lumbering around in the back room, talking to himself, emerging periodically to yell at birds. The only thing I have differentiating me from a tress passing hobo is the set of keys I keep pinned to my belt.

Yeah... I've definitely crossed some kind of line.